Test of Strength
by Jezrianna2.0
Summary: [Complete]Supergirl and Team Possible face their deadliest foes yet, as an old enemy returns from the grave in search of vengeance.
1. All is Well

****

Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by the Disney Corporation. Supergirl and all related characters and indicia are owned by DC Comics/Warner Bros. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.

The University of Northern California depicted in this story is entirely fictitious and is not intended to represent the real University of Northern California.

Kim Possible bounced lightly on the balls of her feet, watching intently as her best friend and partner Ron Stoppable swung his racquet and drove the blue racquetball toward the far wall of the court. The tiny blue sphere bounced back, caroming off the right hand wall as it did so. Kim dove sideways, swept her own racquet around, and sent the ball back again. Ron had to move fast to catch the returning ball. He managed, just, to hit it. Kim swore silently. By accident or design the ball was coming back just along the wall on the opposite side of the court. She sprinted to intercept, knowing what it would cost her but determined to win the game and the match. Her racquet sent the ball back toward the far wall right before she ran full tilt into the side wall. Staggering back, Kim turned just in time to see Ron make a desperate dive for the ball, miss it, and hit the floor with a loud thud.

He lay there, breathing hard, soaked in sweat just like Kim was. She leaned against the wall and slid down to a sitting position.

"That's," she gasped, "The game, and the match. I win."

Ron waved his racquet in acknowledgment of her victory, then pushed himself up and rose to his feet.

"This time," he allowed, crossing the court to help Kim to her feet.

"This time," Kim agreed, smiling at him. She and Ron were midway through their first semester of college at the University of Northern California and played racquetball at least twice a week. Kim had been introduced to the game by one of her boyfriends, and her enthusiasm for it had lasted long after she'd given him the deep six. Ron had taken the ex-boyfriend's place as Kim's partner and quickly fell in love with the sport.

Kim smiled again. Unlike her ex, Ron played to win, all the time. The ex had made a point of losing in an all too blatant effort to curry favor with her, probably in hopes of getting into her pants. Unfortunately for him, Kim had no use for someone who threw games so obviously. Ron lost more than he won, but he always made her work for her victories.

'Work hard, too,' Kim thought as she took Ron's hand and let him pull her to her feet. Aching muscles protested the shift in position and Kim winced. They usually played best of three matches, and Kim couldn't recall the last time she'd needed less than all three to win. She'd barely won this match, dropping the first game and having to come from behind to win the second. The third game had been as hard fought as any, and if Kim had the edge on Ron in endurance, his superior upper body strength at least partially offset it. All of which meant that she'd be bruised and sore tomorrow, since playing all out was the only way she could beat him.

While Ron picked up his gym bag from along the back wall, Kim pulled sweat pants and a tee shirt on over her tight fitting shorts and the sports bra she'd been wearing as a top. Then Ron ducked out through the small door in the back wall of the court, Kim following on his heels. They were in the Field House, the UNC's student athletics facility. It was a Saturday morning in October and the Field House was crowded with students involved in various activities. As Kim and Ron left the racquetball court they'd been using, two more people ducked past them into it. Four such courts lined one side of this particular hallway, and all were in use, as were the two basketball courts on the other side.

"Ugh," Kim groaned, rubbing her left elbow as the two friends walked out of the Field House and headed for their dormitory, which stood less than a block away. It was a sunny day, but a touch on the cool side, with a noticeable breeze, so they didn't opt for a leisurely stroll back.

'Ah, the dorm,' Kim thought as they entered the lobby. It was an old apartment building the University had purchased (or had it been donated? Kim couldn't quite remember) and converted to high end student housing. Strictly speaking, UNC's housing policy forbade coed living arrangements, but thanks to Wade and his superior computer skills, Kim and Ron had managed to secure a two person apartment on the fourteenth floor. Just what the University thought of the matter, if they were even aware of it, Kim didn't know. All she knew was that she and Ron got to share a small (tiny, really) two bedroom apartment with a kitchenette and private bath that actually had a shower/tub combo. Ron beat her to the bank of elevators and punched all four call buttons.

They had also foregone official university meal plans. Instead, they bought their own groceries and took turns cooking for each other. Kim's cooking skills had improved tremendously in the short time they'd been at college, thanks to Ron's instruction. All in all, it was a nearly perfect arrangement, Kim thought as an elevator car arrived and she and Ron boarded it.

Nearly perfect because the apartment had somewhat thin interior walls, which made intimate moments with their respective boy and girlfriends...awkward. Kim still blushed whenever she remembered what Ron had said the morning after the first time she'd had a guy over for the night . Apparently Ron had overheard every single thing she'd said, and every little noise she'd made, for he'd launched into a startlingly complete recitation. However, instead of trying to forbid her ever to have sex in the apartment again while he was there, Ron had come up with a simple but highly effective solution, one that worked equally well for her when Ron had girls over. Earplugs.

Kim giggled as they stepped out of the elevator, and Ron gave her a questioning look.

"Just remembering something," Kim said, giggling again. Ron grinned.

"Like that your folks are going to be here in an hour? Or like that Kara will be here at noon?"

"Gah!" Kim exclaimed, looking at her watch. It was already after ten. "I need to take a shower!" She made a bee line for their apartment and started undressing as soon as she was across the threshold. Ron got through the door in time to see Kim pull her bra over her head as she disappeared into the bathroom. He shook his head. It sometimes struck him as odd that Kim would get undressed in front of him without (apparently) a second thought. It had happened a few times back home, to be sure, but since they'd become roommates it happened on a regular basis. He'd seen her in nothing more than a bra and panties so often that he hardly gave it a second thought anymore.

"At least she hasn't come out topless again," he mused aloud. That had been a real eye opener. Kim had come out her room one morning, headed for the shower, wearing only panties. It had taken Ron's popeyed stare and bright red blush to make her wonder if something was wrong. When she realized her situation she'd blushed as deeply as Ron had, covered herself with an arm, and ducked back into her room.

"Sorry about that," she'd apologized, still red faced, when she'd emerged again. "I sometimes forget that you're a guy."

Ron had decided to lighten the tone, so he joked, "Well, I'm not gonna be able to forget that you're a girl, now that I've seen those!" She'd thrown a pillow at him, but she laughed, and the incident had been forgotten. Well, at least it wasn't mentioned. Despite deliberate efforts, Ron hadn't been able to forget the sight of Kim's breasts. He'd seen them before, of course, when Dr. Drakken's machine had switched their consciousnesses, seen everything in fact, but it had been like looking at himself naked. Not arousing at all, which wasn't surprising since he'd been working with the female hormones of a very heterosexual Kim Possible. Seeing them with his own eyes, while in his own body, was another story.

After the 'no top' incident Ron had thought, again, about asking Kim out on an official date, but had decided not to. Apart from the fact that he had trouble imagining her as a girlfriend, he was worried that taking their relationship in that direction might wreck their friendship, and that was something he knew neither of them wanted.

"Besides," he chuckled as he rummaged through the kitchenette for a pre-lunch snack, "We might end up there anyway, without any deliberate effort on our part." Even before the Moodulator incident he and Kim had been growing closer, if such a thing was possible, and their relationship had only deepened afterward. They already spent more time with each other than they did with any other people, even their respective girlfriends and boyfriends. Ron had actually lost a couple of girlfriends because they felt threatened by his relationship with Kim. One of them had walked into the apartment to find Kim and Ron sitting on the couch watching TV. No big deal, except Kim had been snuggled in Ron's arms at the time. That was a something that happened fairly often. In fact, it was getting to be a common, if quite enjoyable, occurrence. Anyway, the girl had freaked out and broke up with him right on the spot.

The shower stopped. A few minutes later Kim emerged, clad in a robe, with a towel around her hair.

"Your turn," she said before going into her room to dry her hair and get dressed.

"Yes ma'am," Ron said obediently. It was only after he got out of the shower that he realized he had forgotten to get his own bathrobe. He thought about asking Kim to get it for him, then decided not to bother. He strode out of the bathroom wearing a towel around his waist, his shoes and dirty clothes in his hands. Kim, who was watching TV, looked up briefly, then turned away without saying a word.

For some reason Ron found that a trifle disappointing.

Elsewhere, a short, plump woman with a bad hairdo sat watching, scarcely daring to breath, while a man in a dark red robe knelt before a large, black iron and leather bound book on a low table, chanting words the woman couldn't understand and moving small squares of ivory around. Her name was Amy McCarthy, but the world at large knew her as DNAmy, the insane genetic engineer. The man she was watching was much less well known. His name was Felix Faust and he was a wizard, or so DNAmy had been told. It had taken her a great deal of effort to track him down, and even more to get him to agree to see her, but once he had, he'd proven surprisingly amenable to her request.

The chanting stopped, and Faust straitened up. He gestured, and two servants approached, one to collect the tiles and book from the table, the other to help Faust to his feet.

"Well?" DNAmy asked, putting all the hope and anxiety she was feeling into the word.

"I was unable to contact him," Faust said simply, and DNAmy started to wail with despair. Started to, but Faust cut her off with a gesture. "But only because his soul hasn't crossed over to the other side."

"Wh-what?" DNAmy wasn't sure she really believe that Faust could contact the dead, but she was desperate enough to try anything.

"I found it in Cambodia, in an old, abandoned temple. It's in a statue of a monkey, along with a hundred or so others."

"Trapped?"

Faust frowned thoughtfully. "I don't believe so. I'll have to see the statue, of course, and do some research before I can be absolutely sure, but I'm confident I can get it out."

"And then..." DNAmy said, enthusiasm flooding into her voice.

"And then, when you have restored his body, and I have returned his soul to it, Monkey Fist will live again!"

"And vengeance will be mine!" DNAmy squealed. Faust smiled.

"Ours, dear lady," he corrected with a tolerant smile. Faust knew about Team Possible, but had never crossed paths with them, and so bore them no ill will. Supergirl was another matter, and when DNAmy had come to him for help in restoring her late beloved to life, as well as avenging herself on those who had slain him, and mentioned that the Girl of Steel was one of those responsible, Faust had leapt at the chance to assist her. They had yet to work out all of the details of their arrangement, but Faust was sure they would come to a mutually acceptable and beneficent accord. When they did, Supergirl would die, DNAmy and Monkey Fist would gain near godlike power and rule over the Earth, and Faust would move one step closer to his ultimate goal - unlocking the secret of life itself.


	2. Family, Friends, and Enemies

Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by the Disney Corporation. Supergirl and all related characters and indicia are owned by DC Comics/Warner Bros. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.

I finally have a story to go with my original scene (which will reappear later, intact). The first chapter is completely new, so don't forget to go back and read it. Enjoy.

Mr. and Mrs. Dr. Possible, with Jim and Tim in tow, arrived shortly after Ron finished getting dressed. It was the first time they'd come to the university since the beginning of the semester, when they'd helped Kim and Ron move into the dorm, and they wasted no time poking into every corner of the small apartment to see what Kim and Ron had made of it.

Kim frowned slightly. She wasn't as obsessive about her privacy as some people she knew, and what she did feel varied from person to person. Take Ron, for example. She left anything and everything lying out in plain sight around him. Well, almost everything. There were a few items in the drawer of her nightstand, a drawer she kept locked at all times, that she didn't want the general public to see. Ron probably wouldn't say much, if anything at all, if he saw them, but there was no way in hell Kim wanted her brothers to see what was in that drawer. Or her parents, for that matter.

Fortunately when Jim and Tim took their nosey little turn around her bedroom they didn't even bother to look at the nightstand. Or the dresser. They scanned the contents of her desktop and bookshelves, and peeked in her closet, but that was it. Maybe, she decided, the little monsters were growing up. Then it occurred to her that, since they were thirteen now, they might have reached the age when they began to appreciate the notion of privacy. Especially in light of the need to hide certain kinds of magazines from their mother.

Kim giggled despite herself, drawing odd looks from everyone. She shook her head. "I'm just so happy to see you all," she explained. "It's been longer than I thought, and I missed you." That was true. The city of Redding might only be a couple of hours drive from Middleton, but Kim and Ron hadn't been home since school had started. Their weekends were usually spent at the Global Justice training facility at Twenty-nine Palms in the southern half of the state.

"We're happy to see you, too, Kimmy," Mrs. Dr. Possible, smiling gently as she enfolded her daughter in yet another hug.

"Now," Mr. Dr. Possible put in, "What about lunch? I'm starved!"

"Us, too!" Jim and Tim chorused. "Mom and Dad wouldn't stop for snacks or anything along the way!"

Kim glanced briefly at Ron, then at the clock in the kitchen. It wasn't even a quarter after eleven. She winced, then turned to her family with an apologetic smile. "I hope you don't mind waiting a bit," Kim began imploringly, "but Kara won't be here until noon and..."

"Who's Kara?" Jim and Tim interrupted at the same time.

"She's a friend of Ron and mine. Her name's Kara Kent, and she's from Smallville, Kansas. We met her there during the Monkey Fist mission, and we became friends."

"Why is she coming here today, Kimmy?" Mr. Dr. Possible asked, his stomach rumbling slightly.

Ron answered. "The football game, of course. Kara goes to the University of Kansas, and the Jayhawks are in town to take on the Peregrines. She's coming out to watch them play."

"Right," Kim added. "Anyway, she won't get here until noon and..." Kim was cut off again, this time by a knock at the door. Puzzled and curious, Kim crossed to the door, turned the knob, and pulled it open. Doing so revealed a girl with blue eyes and long pale platinum blonde hair (tied back in a ponytail), wearing tight blue jeans, a University of Kansas Athletic Department tee shirt, a U of K letter jacket, and neat wire rimmed glasses.

"Kara!"

"Kim!"

Kim engulfed her friend in a vast hug, which Kara returned.

"You're early!" Kim accused with a mocking grin.

Kara shrugged. "Well, you know, my flight got in early, and I thought you wouldn't mind if I showed up ahead of schedule." Kara's eyes twinkled as she said the last, and Kim guessed that Kara had overheard the conversation they'd been having and decided to make a premature appearance.

"Listening in?" Kim asked in a barely audible whisper.

Kara drew back slightly and nodded apologetically. "I didn't mean to, but sometimes it just happens. I don't really know why." Kim nodded once in acknowledgement. That was one of the weirder aspects of Kara's powers, especially her super hearing. She could be going along, not paying attention to anything around her, and suddenly she'd pick up on the sound of someone in trouble, even over miles of intervening noise. It didn't make a lot of sense to Kim, or Kara for that matter.

"Well," Kim said resolutely, "Let's not keep you waiting at the threshold. Come in!"

Kara greeted Ron with a kiss, as well as a hug, and then turned to face the rest of Kim's family. Kim moved up to introduce her, again. Kim didn't allow her face to show the amusement she was feeling. After all, her parents and brothers had met Kara before, in Metropolis. The only difference was that Kara had been in uniform as Supergirl at the time, and Kim had introduced her as such. Now Kara stepped toward Kim's parents, acting for all the world as if she had never seen them before in her life.

"Mom, Dad, Tweebs, this is my friend Kara Kent, of Smallville, Kansas. Kara, these are my parents, and my brothers, Jim and Tim."

"It's so nice to meet you, Kara," Mrs. Dr. Possible smiled. "Kim has mentioned you a time or two, though she forgot to mention you'd be here today," she finished, giving Kim a sharp look.

Kim blushed. "Hey, I'm a busy girl, Mom," she protested.

Ron chose that moment to break in. "Hey, Kara, you wouldn't by any chance be...hungry, would you?" That was a leading question if Kim had ever heard one, and Kara smiled.

"Why, yes," she said brightly, "I am hungry, Ron."

* * *

Lunch was fun, if a trifle embarrassing. Kim thought so anyway. Jim and Tim had finally started to take a serious interest in girls, and both of them tried flirting with Kara. Their attempts were pretty pathetic, which was par for the course for thirteen year old boys. They might have made so headway with a thirteen year old girl, Kim allowed, but to a mature nineteen year old they were laughable. Except that Kara wasn't laughing. Not openly anyway. She seemed amused by the Tweebs' lame come-ons, and flirted right back at them. Not too provocatively, and with a twinkle in her eye, but flirt she did. Kim wasn't sure what to make of that. Kara had come around a few times to see Ron, in Middleton and here at college, and had slept with him every time. That didn't bother Kim. Ron was a big boy, after all. But the thought of Kara bedding her brothers was...troubling, somehow. Kara probably wouldn't think so. Her ideas about sexual propriety were a bit different than most people's. Kim decided to find out. She leaned over and whispered in Kara's ear.

"You aren't thinking of going further than flirting, are you?" she asked, flicking her eyes at the Tweebs.

Kara shook her head slightly. "There are laws, Kim," she smiled. "Silly laws," Kara added, her voice suddenly serious, "But laws none-the-less. And when in Rome..."

The football game wasn't embarrassing at all. Kara cheered enthusiastically and spent the whole game on the edge of her seat. The game went right down to the wire, the Peregrines snatching victory from the jaws of defeat with a last second field goal that left Kara crushed. Kim was a bit surprised at Kara's interest in, and passion for, the game, and said so.

"It's very similar to a game we had on Argo," Kara explained, "Except our version had thirteen players, mixed teams, and more emphasis on finesse than brute force. Still, they're alike enough that football reminds me of home, and," she added with a wicked grin, "There's a lot to be said for a game that has men running around in tight pants."

* * *

The jungles of northern Cambodia teemed with more life than DNAmy could believe. Creatures she'd never heard of roamed everywhere. Some of them were interesting enough that, despite the deadly serious nature of the trip she and her new friend were on, DNAmy was sorely tempted to capture them for her experiments. Ah, well. There would be time enough for that later - after her precious cuddle-bunny Monkey Fist was back among the living.

Speaking of her new friend, Felix Faust was forging ahead, hacking a path through the thick undergrowth with a gleaming machete. Faust glared at their Cambodian guide.

"I have a hard time believing this is a trail, sir," Faust growled in flawless French. The guide merely shrugged.

"The jungle is like a ravenous beast, Monsieur Faust. It devours open spaces quickly, if they aren't maintained."

Faust glowered, but said nothing. The man had a point, he supposed. Faust slashed at another curtain of vines, then let out a gasp. A gray stone wall loomed on the other side. He glanced to either side. Through the vegetation he could make out a good bit of the wall. They were there. Now all they had to do was find the entrance.

That proved less difficult than getting to the temple had. The guide quickly oriented himself, and led them straight to it. The jungle had forced its way into the temple, in the form of vines and creepers, but the interior was much less cluttered than the outside. A dank, musty odor permeated the air, and Faust recognized the smell of decaying organic matter. Probably plants, but perhaps a few animals, too. DNAmy wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"Stinky," she commented.

Faust said nothing, just gestured for the guide to lead the way. The man did so, the other two following at his heels. The temple wasn't large, and they soon found themselves staring at a somewhat small statue, in jade, of a monkey.

"That's it?" DNAmy asked. She sounded a bit disappointed. Faust hid his disdain. Like many mortals, the woman didn't realize that size and power weren't always in direct proportion to one another. He dipped into the pouch at his belt and drew out a pearl. It was the size of marble, worth thousands of dollars on the open market. Faust crushed it between his thumb and forefinger. He chanted in Coptic, appealing to Thoth, the ancient Egyptian god of magic and knowledge, to accept his offering in exchange for information about the statue. Thoth agreed to the bargain. Faust's eyes widened as the mundane facade of everyday reality fell away. The chamber seemed to fill with ethereal light, the statue glowing like a miniature sun. Rivers of mystical energy flowed into, through, and out of it. Faust smiled in wonder. So, his guess had been correct. The statue was not, in fact, a prison. Rather, it was a refuge of sorts, for the life forces and accumulated wisdom of departed monkey masters. Faust also saw that the statue would allow a living monkey master to harness the energies present in the temple, as well as access the knowledge of his forebears. The statue was a powerful artifact indeed. It would be possible to release Monkey Fist's spirit from the statue, but, Faust realized, there was a catch. The enchantments on the statue wouldn't allow a net loss of spiritual energy. If Monkey Fist's spirit came out, someone else's would have to go in in its place. Faust glanced at the guide who had led them here. A cruel smile crossed his lips. The man might yet prove more useful than he had imagined. Or bargained for.


	3. A Proposition

Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by the Disney Corporation. Supergirl and all related characters and indicia are owned by DC Comics/Warner Bros. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.

Kim waved as her father's car pulled out of the dorm parking lot and headed for home. Her father waved once from behind the wheel, her mother until they were out of sight, Jim and Tim not at all. Kim was both sad and happy to see them go. Sad because she really did miss them, even the Tweebs, happy because she and Ron could now relax around Kara. It was surprising, how much effort it took to pretend that Kara was an ordinary teenager. Kim had had to bite her tongue more than once to avoid mentioning something that would have given the game away, and she was sure Ron had as well.

"Thank God that's over," Kim said, relief evident in her voice as the three of them returned to the apartment.

"I thought you were happy to see them?" Kara asked, looking a bit puzzled.

"Oh, I was," Kim assured her. "It's just that this place is really too small for seven people." She gestured at the small apartment. It was a mess. Since there wasn't enough room in the kitchen, with its miniscule dining area, for all of them, they'd eaten their supper in the living room. Plates, cups, silverware, and various and sundry debris were scattered everywhere. Kim's mother had offered assistance in cleaning up, but Kim had demurred, mostly for the sake of getting her brothers out before they destroyed the apartment.

"It's going to take forever to clean this up," Kim sighed.

Kara scoffed. "You guys cooked and hosted. I'll handle the cleanup." Before Kim could say a word Kara blurred into motion. Kim blinked. The living room was suddenly as neat as a pin. She turned, just in time to see Kara putting the last of the dishes away.

"Show off," Kim chided with a smile.

Kara just grinned.

Ron glanced at the clock and spoke up. "It's only seven. No point in heading uptown before nine, so what do you guys want to do until then?" The plan was for the three of them to hit some of the more popular student watering holes in Redding's uptown district and dance the night away. Most of the bars and nightclubs would allow nineteen-year-olds in, even if they wouldn't serve them alcoholic beverages. Not that Ron was all that keen on drinking. He'd tried beer, wine and spirits before, at home with his parents' permission, and he saw nothing special or exciting about any of them. Kim was fond of red wine, but she only drank it with dinner, and never more than one glass. Kara had made her own position clear the first time she'd come to visit and Kim had offered her a drink.

"Uncle Jonathan and Aunt Martha let me have a glass of champagne last New Year's Eve, and it went right to my head. So no booze for me. Can you imagine the potential disaster a drunk Supergirl could be?" She'd shuddered. It was a pretty terrifying prospect, Ron had to agree.

"Well, actually," Kara said, "I have something I want to talk to you guys about. A proposition, if you will."

Kim and Ron shared a look and took seats on the couch. Kara took a chair from the small table in the kitchen, turned it around and straddled it. The look she gave Kim and Ron was completely serious.

"No doubt you're aware that the Justice League has expanded enormously in the last couple of years." That was an understatement if ever Kim had heard one. Originally of just seven members, the League's ranks had grown thirty-fold. True, many of the new members carried associate status, like Kara did, or were part-timers and reservists, but still...

"That being the case, and in line with our goal of being 'more proactive' as Superman put it, the League is trying to cooperate more with other organizations, like Interpol, the CIA..."

"Global Justice," Kim offered, and Kara smiled and nodded. "So what does that have to do with us?" Kim went on, gesturing at herself and Ron.

"Well, the League has invited, or is going to invite, these various organizations to assign liaison officers to the League. Now, I've been talking with the younger members, and we think it would be nice if at least some of those liaisons were our own age."

"So?" Ron asked, a touch of excitement coloring his voice.

"So, if it's ok with you two, I'm going to ask Superman to ask for you guys by name, when he invites GJ to appoint its liaison."

"And just what would our duties as 'liaisons' include?" Kim struggled to keep the excitement out of her own voice.

"Oh, you know, " Kara said offhandedly, "Visiting the Watchtower on a regular basis, attending a few meetings, going on the odd mission, that sort of thing."

Ron's eyes narrowed. "And what about the League's liaison to Global Justice?"

Kara assumed an expression of saintly innocence. "It may take a bit of wheedling, but I think I have a better than average shot."

* * *

Felix Faust swore as he picked himself up from the filthy floor of the temple. He had attempted to remove the monkey statue from its place and had been thrown back rather violently, slamming into the wall of the central chamber and sliding to the floor, stunned.

"What's wrong?' DNAmy squeaked fearfully. She was cowering in the corridor that led toward the entrance to the temple.

"The statue has warding spells on it," Faust grumbled. She gave him a blank look, and he sighed.

"It's protected by magic. I can't touch it, not just yet anyway. I'll have to figure out a way to break or bypass the wards before I can move it."

DNAmy looked like she was about to cry. Faust moved to comfort her, if only because he found her crying fits annoying.

"Now, now, dear lady. Patience. I'll get the statue, rest assured. It's only a matter of time."

DNAmy sniffled, but the threatened tears didn't come.

"What do we do in the meantime?"

Faust smiled. "In the meantime, we return to my home. From there, you begin your preparations for the return of your true love, while I discover the means to accomplish my part of the task." Faust glanced at the guide. The man spoke no English, at least as far as Faust knew, and so was merely watching expectantly while he and DNAmy conversed. Fate must have been smiling on the guide. Because of Faust's inability to touch the statue, the man would avoid being sacrificed to release Monkey Fist's spirit from the idol. Pity. Oh well. There were plenty of suitable victims around Faust's home. The wizard drew a black stone from a pocket and spoke a few words. The stone flickered briefly.

"Now what are you doing?" DNAmy asked curiously.

"Marking this location, so I can teleport back, instead of repeating that dreadful hike through the jungle."

"That sounds convenient," DNAmy smiled.

"It is," Faust allowed. "Now, madam, if you will..." Faust put an arm around her shoulders and began gesturing with his free hand. DNAmy watched as symbols that bore a strong resemblance to runes sprang into existence in the air and swirled around them. A bright white light flashed. The guide blinked. He was alone.

* * *

Ron was having a great time. The Shanti, the club they were in, was hopping, as usual for a Saturday night. When Ron wasn't dancing with Kara, or Kim, or both of them, he was guarding their table while they took turns around the crowded dance floor with various guys. Ron felt slight twinges of jealousy every time Kara took a new partner, but suppressed them. After all, it wasn't like they were going steady or anything. He didn't date exclusively, and she didn't either. Besides, she was going home with him at the end of the night, so what if she smiled at the guy she was dancing with at the moment? More surprising were the twinges of jealousy that sprang up when Kim danced with someone else. Ron shook himself. He was being silly, he knew. It wasn't right for him to feel possessive of Kim. She was his best friend, to be sure, and he loved her dearly, but that didn't give him an exclusive claim on her time, especially since sex wasn't a factor in their relationship. Kim had as much right as he did to take her physical pleasure with any man she wanted to, even the slick, Latino-looking dude who had his hands on her ass at the moment and...

Ron shook himself again. 'Amp down, Ron' he told himself. 'You're not Kim's Dad, so stop thinking like he does.' He was rescued from pursuing his thoughts any further by Kara, who returned to the table and favored him with a dazzling smile. He felt a flush of pleasure and smiled back.

His pleasure didn't last, however. A guy, maybe in his early twenties and looking a bit addled, staggered up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey baby, want to dance?" The guy's words were so slurred that Ron had trouble understanding him. A flicker of annoyance crossed Kara's face. She turned and said, politely, "No, thank you."

The guy frowned. "You've danced with every other guy in the place, why not me?"

Kara's smile became forced. "Because I want to sit down right now," she said, brushing the guy's hand off her shoulder.

"Look, honey," the guy growled, "I want to dance with you." Kara sighed.

"I'm taking into account the fact you're obviously drunk," Kara said firmly but politely, "and so probably don't realize exactly what you're doing. Allow me to repeat myself: I do not want to dance with you. Please leave."

The guy scowled. A second fellow appeared behind him, just as glassy eyed as the first. Apparently the new arrival was a friend, and had been watching, because he joined in.

"'S'matter, bitch, my friend not good enough for ya?"

Kara turned and stood up. Ron did so as well. Not to intervene. Kara certainly didn't need his help to deal with these two idiots. Well, not to intervene directly. Ron climbed up on his chair and started trying to catch the eye of a bouncer he knew, to head off trouble before things got out of hand.

"I don't like being addressed as 'bitch'," Kara said icily. The second guy grinned wickedly. "Ya don', huh? H'bout slut? Or maybe, whore?"

Ron noticed that Kim had noticed what was going on, and started toward the table. She looked like she was going jump into the confrontation, but Ron stopped her with a gesture. Kim came around the table to join him, a questioning look on her face. Ron leaned over and whispered in her ear.

"You throw so much as one punch in here, Kim, and you'll be banned permanently, no matter what the provocation. Let the staff handle it."

He nodded toward two large men in identical tee shirts emblazoned with the Shanti's logo and the word Security who were approaching. The first guy grabbed Kara's wrist and made to drag her onto the dance floor. By his expression he must have been surprised as hell when her deceptively slender frame didn't budge. He tried again, as deliberately as he could manage in his intoxicated state, but had no more luck.

"What the hell? Are you glued to the damn floor or something?"

"Or something," Kara sneered. Ron didn't know what Kara might have said or done next, because the bouncers arrived. The one he knew, a guy named Charlie, was a second string offensive lineman for the school football team.

He stood six feet seven inches tall and weighed a good three hundred and fifty pounds. His companion was almost as big. Charlie's hand, which was so large it looked like it could completely cover the first guy's face, settled instead onto his shoulder. The guy froze, looking askance at the massive paw before turning to regard the mountain of muscle and sinew behind him. He managed a weak chuckle, then Charlie spoke.

"These guys bugging you, miss?"

Kara visibly relaxed. "Yes. They wouldn't take 'no' for an answer."

Charlie nodded once at Ron, then turned to the people at the next table.

"Is that right?" he asked. The table in question had two couples at it, all of whom nodded in the affirmative.

Charlie smiled and addressed the two men. "That's all for you two, then." Without another word, he and his associate dragged the protesting men away.

"That's why I don't drink," Kara said, gesturing after them. "Not only would I hate to act like that in public, but if I'd been drinking tonight, who knows what would have happened?"

Kim nodded. She could have, and would have, knocked both guys silly. Kara could have killed them with a flick of her little finger, or incinerated them for that matter.

"I'm glad you held back," Kim said, then snorted with laughter. "If those guys had known just who they messing with they'd probably have wet themselves."

"Maybe," Kara allowed, "Although they were so plastered it might not have made any difference. As it was though, I didn't have a lot of options." She dug into her purse and pulled out a small cylinder. "I couldn't use this, not in a crowded area, and hitting them was pretty much out of the question, since I didn't want to hurt them."

Kim took the cylinder and examined it.

"You actually carry pepper spray?"

Kara nodded. "For show," she explained. "Same thing with the whistle," she added, holding up her key ring as well. "One of my friends at college freaked out when she found out I didn't have either one, and insisted I get some. I figured that even if I didn't need them, carrying them would help me fit in."

* * *

Kim awoke at sunrise, as usual. Throwing back her covers she rolled out of bed, pausing only to remove her earplugs and pull on a pair of shorts and a tee shirt before heading for the kitchen to start breakfast. They'd left the Shanti shortly after the incident with the drunks, in no small part because the crowd was starting to get heavy with people in a similar state. Arriving home, Kim had retired immediately after bidding Ron and Kara good night. Her earplugs had gone in at once. Kara wasn't as vocal as some of the girls Ron brought home, but she made a fair amount of noise, and the walls were thin.

On her way to the kitchen Kim paused at the door to Ron's room. She listened, and heard nothing. Quietly, she turned the knob and opened it a crack. Kara was lying in Ron's arms, her head resting on his chest. They looked sound asleep. Kim turned away, fighting a sudden stab of jealousy. The notion that she was jealous of Kara flitted briefly through Kim's mind before she summarily dismissed it. She was jealous of Ron for getting laid last night. That was it. Yes. That was definitely it.


	4. The Return of Monkey Fist

Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by the Disney Corporation. Supergirl and all related characters and indicia are owned by DC Comics/Warner Bros. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.

Three weeks later

Twentynine Palms, California

Kim watched as six Global Justice field agents crawled slowly toward her position. She was lying flat on the crest of a hill, beneath the twisted branches of a Joshua tree. Ron lay beside her. The two of them were hidden under a camouflage net. He was peering through binoculars at the GJ team.

"The team leader is the guy second from the left," he whispered. Kim studied the man in question through the scope on her rifle. The GJ agents were in an arrowhead formation, and standard tactical doctrine called for the team leader to be in the center behind the others, where she could watch her subordinates and direct their actions. As Kim watched, the man Ron had indicated made a couple of gestures that confirmed Ron's opinion. Kim smiled humorlessly. She and Ron were part of the Op-Force for this particular exercise, defending a 'terrorist base' against GJ infiltration teams. They were a thousand yards away from their 'enemies', well behind the Op-Force lines, and were about to teach this particular team's leader a lesson about using terrain to cover movement. The fellow had made his approach to the 'battlefield' in plain view of anyone on the hill, totally negating his subsequent attempt to infiltrate unnoticed. Kim worked the action on the rifle. It was a 0.50 caliber bolt action sniper rifle, loaded with blanks of course, and fitted with a MILES unit that would trigger a loud alarm if Kim 'hit' her target. She estimated there was a fifty-fifty chance of that. She was only a fair shot with a rifle, even with an outstanding scope, a tripod rest for her weapon and Ron to help her estimate range and windage.

Kim would still have to worry about that. Her rifle would fire a harmless 'bullet' of laser light, but this entire area of desert was wired up with sensors and telemetry systems. The scope and the MILES unit were linked into the main system, which would take every possible variable into account when judging whether she had hit her target. She would have to aim just as if she was firing a real round.

The infiltration team paused while the leader propped himself up on his elbows to take a look around. The view through the scope gave a good view of his face. Kim's lips twisted in a sour smirk. He looked a lot like Will Du. He wasn't, of course. Du was on assignment in Eastern Europe, and even if he was an arrogant prick, he wouldn't have made this kind of mistake. Kim took a deep breath, let half of it out, and began to squeeze the trigger.

"Say good night, Gracie," she breathed. She felt the tension as the trigger approached it's 'break' point.

The loud report of the shot echoed across the desert. Kim couldn't hear the alarm from her target's MILES harness, but she could see him jerk violently as it went off, to his obviously complete surprise. Kim turned to Ron with a grin, which he returned. He started to say something, but was cut off by a voice over the Op-Force radio net.

"Agents Possible and Stoppable, this is HQ. Return to base ops ASAP. The Justice League Liaison Officer is inbound for her orientation tour of GJ headquarters. ETA, forty-five minutes."

Forty minutes later Kim and Ron were showered, dressed in standard Global Justice blue jumpsuits, and waiting at the Marine Corps Air Ground Combat Center airstrip. Ron tugged absently at his collar as he peered into the cloudless sky for some sign of Kara. Dr. Director was waiting with them, and as the seconds ticked away, Marines began filtering onto the ramp. From their chatter it seemed that they knew a VIP was inbound, and wanted to catch a glimpse of her.

"My sentiments exactly," Ron whispered out of the side of his mouth, and Kim smiled. She gave Dr. Director a surreptitious glance. Dr. Director knew that Kim and Ron knew Supergirl, of course, but not that they knew Supergirl's secret identity, or that Ron and Kara were more than 'just friends'. It seemed prudent to keep things that way. Not withstanding the fact that Kara's secret wasn't theirs to share, Kim and Ron didn't think Dr. Director needed to know that their relationship with the Girl of Steel was anything other than professional.

"There it is!" a Marine called out, pointing toward the horizon.

"It?" Kim and Ron exclaimed as one, turning to follow the Marine's arm. An aircraft was approaching from the west, sunlight glinting off its wings as it descended.

"Javelin," Ron said after studying the plane for a moment.

Kim frowned slightly. "I wonder why she didn't just fly down herself?" she mused aloud.

Dr. Director gave Kim a puzzled look. "When the Martian Manhunter commed us to let us know Supergirl was coming, he asked if it would be convenient for you two to tour the Watchtower today."

Kim nodded. That much she understood. Global Justice and the Justice League were both rather busy at the moment, and trying to schedule the visits for their respective liaisons had been difficult. Finally the two organizations had settled on a 'when convenient' plan. Essentially, the visits would take place whenever each side found enough time to squeeze them in. Apparently today was the day for both.

Kim's eyes returned to the approaching Javelin. She sighed disappointedly. "I was looking forward to taking the transporter," she said, a touch theatrically.

Dr. Director chuckled. "Look on the bright side Kim. I've cleared your schedule for the rest of the day. When you're done at JL headquarters you can go straight home."

The Javelin passed overhead on the downwind leg of its approach. Ron shaded his eyes and stared intently. The sound of the plane's engines rose and fell as the pilot added power or throttled back. Excessively so, he thought. The Javelin swung in a wide arc as it turned into the wind and started its final approach. The landing gear came down and speed brakes opened along the fuselage.

"They're coming in a little fast," Kim heard Dr. Director comment, then winced as the Javelin landed hard. The struts of the main gear compressed almost completely, then the Javelin bounced into the air again. The pilot forced it back down, bouncing once more before managing to keep it on the runway.

After that things went well enough. The Javelin taxied up to the Operations building, behind a Humvee with a 'Follow Me' sign on its back end, and was met by a Marine ground crew. The engines shut down, the access door opened and Kara, dressed as Supergirl, descended smiling and waving to one and all. She was followed by a somewhat surly looking man. Kim stared at him. Whoever he was he wasn't wearing a mask or costume, just a flight suit. He seemed to be glowering at Kara, though for what reason Kim couldn't guess. A Marine met the man and led him away. Kim pushed the man and his expression from her mind as Kara approached them.

"Kim Possible," Kara said by way of greeting, smiling and holding out a hand. "It's good to see you again."

Kim returned the smile and shook Kara's hand. She had to work at it a bit to keep the amusement out of her voice. It was funny how knowing a secret could do that to a person. "Likewise, Supergirl. I'd heard you'd gotten full membership in the League. Congratulations." Kim gestured at Ron, who was sporting a somewhat silly grin, despite his obvious efforts to keep his expression serious. "You remember my partner, Ron Stoppable."

"How could I forget?" Kara quipped. Because of their relative positions Kara was able to give Ron a wink without Dr. Director seeing it. Ron responded by blushing slightly, but his grin grew even wider.

Kim's expression and tone became a bit more formal as she guided Kara's attention to Dr. Director. "Supergirl, allow me to introduce the Head of Operations for Global Justice, Doctor Elizabeth Director. Dr. Director, this is Kara In-ze of Argo, more commonly known as Supergirl."

Kara inclined her head politely. "It's a pleasure to meet you Dr. Director," she said.

"The pleasure is mine," Dr. Director responded. "Kim and Ron have told me how well the three of you have worked together in the past. I hope that holds true in the future as well."

"I'm sure it will," Kara assured her. Dr. Director stepped back. A slightly embarrassed look appeared on her face. She looked at her watch, then at the three teenagers. "I had hoped to give you a tour of our facility myself, Supergirl, but a bureaucrat's work is never done, it seems," she explained apologetically. "I have a meeting with GJ's Board of Governors that I simply cannot miss, and I'm already running late, so I'll leave you in Kim and Ron's capable hands. If you'll excuse me?" Dr. Director didn't wait for a response, she just nodded at them, turned and hurried away.

Kim turned to Kara. "Shall we get started?"

Kara grinned back. "We shall," she proclaimed grandly.

* * *

The tour took about an hour, and Kim thought it went well. Kara seemed a bit surprised to learn that Global Justice was almost exclusively combat oriented, doing very little investigating of its own. "We rely on Interpol and the various national police agencies to point us at our targets," Kim explained. "Also, we specialize in people and groups toward the more extreme end of the criminal spectrum. You know, high tech cartels like H.I.V.E and W.W.E.E., minor super villains and mad scientists, that sort of thing."

Kara watched and listened attentively as Kim and Ron led her through various training areas and explained the goings on in each. She got a bit of a shock when Kim demonstrated her proficiency at bypassing security and alarm systems and picking locks, be they mechanical or electronic.

"You're really good at that, Kim," Kara observed as Kim demonstrated the various methods of cracking a safe with a dial combination lock.

"It's a family gift," Ron japed. Kara raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Kim's great aunt, Miriam Possible, was a notorious thief back in the early nineteen hundreds," Ron provided. "She pulled jobs all over the western U.S., mostly burglaries, and made off with something like half a million bucks in loot over the course of her career."

Kara gave Kim a wide eyed look. Kim shrugged.

"It's true," was all she said.

Later, at a demonstration of armed and unarmed melee combat, Ron showed off his own skills with Kim's assistance. That prompted Kara to say, "If you two don't mind, I'd like you to teach me some of this stuff." She gave them a serious look. "When it comes to fighting I tend to rely on my super strength, but when I fight foes that can match me, my lack of combat skills really shows."

Kim and Ron shared a look. Kim hid a smile. She was certain she knew exactly what Ron was thinking. One of the advantages of having been best friends forever, no doubt. A moment later Ron proved her guess correct.

"We'd be happy to, Supergirl," he said slowly, a slightly puzzled look on his face. "But, uh, you're so much stronger than we are that, uh..."

Kara shook her head slightly. "There are ways of coping with that," she said. Ron gave her a wondering look and she added, "I'll explain once we're aboard the Watchtower."

Elsewhere

DNAmy was frightened. It was an odd sort of fright, too. It wasn't really for herself, although the goings on in the Alter Chamber of Felix Faust's mansion raised deep seated, instinctive terrors to the front of her mind. Nor was DNAmy frightened for the girl strapped across the huge block of black stained marble that dominated the room. The girl was a local, seduced by Faust's promises of eternal life into taking part in the ritual that was getting under way. She was apparently beginning to have second thoughts about the whole affair, especially after Faust produced the knives he was going to be using. The girls screams for help and pleas for mercy had eventually moved Faust to gag her, and none too gently. But in all honesty, while DNAmy might feel a twinge of sympathy for her, the girl's fate was of little consequence.

Rather, DNAmy's central fear, the one that dominated her thoughts, was her fear that Faust would fail in his endeavor, and that the magnificent form lying beside the struggling girl, the vessel DNAmy had lovingly crafted for her Honey Bunny, would remain empty. She didn't know what she would do if that happened. For the last year DNAmy had been totally focused on bringing this moment to pass. It was all that had kept her from the depths of despair, and if her labors failed to bear fruit, well... She stared at the alter, at the jade statue that held the soul of her beloved, and resolved that if she could not return him to life then, after she had avenged him as best she could she would have Faust send her to be with him.

Faust's assistants, who had been making final preparations, ceased their scurrying and took their places. Faust stepped behind the alter, looked at DNAmy and smiled.

"We are about to begin, dear lady," Faust said softly. "If you hold the talisman I gave you in both hands and think hard about your beloved, I can add your willpower to our own," Faust added, gesturing at his acolytes. "That will make the ritual more likely to succeed."

DNAmy needed no more prompting. She took hold of the bronze medallion hanging around her neck and thought of Monte Fiske and her love for him. She could feel power flowing out of her, but her feelings didn't weaken. They grew stronger, and she felt the power rise. Instinctively, or perhaps at the medallion's prompting, she realized that any emotion would do, so long as it was strongly felt. She called up thoughts of those who had taken her beloved from her, and poured her hate and anger into the mix as well.

The room seemed to dim. The candles that illuminated the chamber took on a reddish tint, and the smell of sulfur came faintly to DNAmy's nostrils. She could hear Faust and his lackeys chanting something. It was almost songlike, rising and falling in tone and tempo, repeating patterns that seemed to resonate, gaining strength as they did so.

DNAmy became aware of a faint mist rising from the girl's body. Her struggles were weakening, and DNAmy guessed the mist was her life force, or soul, or whatever. She began to feel a tension in the air. Pressure of some sort was building up. A moment of release was approaching. DNAmy could _feel_ it.

Faust's chanting headed for one of its peaks. He picked up one of his long bladed daggers and raised it above his head, even as he removed the gag that had kept his intended victim silent. The light in the room, already dim, faded further. Faust pronounced a phrase at the top of his lungs. The blade flashed as the dagger descended. The girl screamed in agony, and at the same instant DNAmy felt and heard a bell-like throb. Faust snatched up a second dagger, repeated the phrase, and stabbed the girl again. She screamed again, and the throb was repeated, far more powerfully. The monkey statue began to glow with an intense green light. The air seemed to shiver with power. DNAmy felt her hair stand up. The moment of truth was at hand, she knew. Faust raised the third and final dagger. The first two had pierced the girl's lungs, if the bright crimson froth on her lips was any indication. Faust repeated his phrase a third time and plunged the gleaming steel into the girl's heart.

The cry that escaped her lips was one of pure agony, underlain with abject terror. The girl jerked once, so violently that DNAmy thought she heard bones breaking, then lay still. At the same time the monkey statue flashed and the unseen bell rang again, loud enough that the room shook. The empty shell DNAmy had crafted with such care sat up, empty no longer. Eyes that gleamed madly swept the room, taking in a sweat soaked Faust and his minions, most of whom had collapsed from exhaustion. They paused only briefly on the bloody corpse that lay nearby, before settling on DNAmy.

"Honey Bunny?" she whispered, hope and longing plain in her voice. The body that held those eyes sprang to its feet. Its hands pounded on its chest. It threw back its head and with primal fury screamed, "I AM MONKEY FIST, AND I LIVE AGAIN!"


	5. The Watchtower

Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by the Disney Corporation. Supergirl and all related characters and indicia are owned by DC Comics/Warner Bros. Adam is the creation of Triaxx2. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.

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_Triaxx2: Nope, that wasn't Adam. He'll show up in this chapter._

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_Gargoylesama: Glad you're enjoying it._

_Thanks to everyone who submitted a review._

Twenty-nine Palms

Kim and Kara strolled toward the waiting Javelin with Ron trailing a few steps behind. He was unable to decide whether he should stare at the ultra-cool space plane or Kara's backside. He finally compromised by alternating back and forth. 'Thank goodness she went for a short cape when she designed her costume,' Ron said to himself. A long cape would have spoiled the view. The miniskirt had been a good idea too, he reasoned. Kara had very nice legs and it would have been a shame to hide them. Even better, the short hem allowed the occasional glimpse of her panties. Ron didn't consider himself a peeping tom, nor was he like the guys he had heard of who went to elaborate measures to peek up skirts or down blouses. He just figured that if a girl went out in public dressed a certain way it was because she _wanted_ guys to look. It wasn't a hard and fast rule, of course. Ron had run across plenty of exceptions. Kara wasn't one of them though. She'd flat out admitted that she'd designed her costume the way she had because she _enjoyed_ knowing guys were checking her out. Ron grinned as he remembered the time he'd asked Kara if she ever thought about 'going commando'. The question had revealed the limits of Kara's exhibitionism.

"I don't mind giving guys an eyeful," she'd said with a coy smile. "But you always want to leave them wanting more."

Ron was jerked out of his reverie by Kim's voice asking a question.

"Who is that guy anyway?" Ron looked up to see Kim pointing at the man in the flight suit, who was waiting for them at the boarding ramp.

"That's Major Thomas Hampstead. He's on loan to the League from the Air Force as commander of our Javelin squadron," Kara explained. There was a slight hitch in her voice as she spoke, and Kim wondered what the cause was.

"Well," Kim commented, "He needs some remedial instruction if that landing is any indication."

Kara turned bright red. "Ah, Kim, that, ah, that was me." Kim's eyebrows rose.

"You?"

"Yeah. I'm learning to fly these because, well, it might come in handy some day."

Kim couldn't bring to mind any reason Kara would need to know how to fly an airplane, but she said nothing.

"Well," Ron put in, "Like they say 'Any landing you can walk away from...'"

"...is not necessarily a good one," the major interjected, giving Kara a stern look. Kara seemed to wilt as the major went on, "I attribute it to her being nervous about her assignment. Of course, that just means that she needs to learn to focus." The major's expression softened a bit, and a ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Still, if Supergirl isn't a natural pilot, she is an attentive and diligent student (which is more than I can say about some of her colleagues) who might just make a fair throttle jockey...someday." Kara perked up as he spoke, and actually grinned at the last.

"That's very kind of you, Major Hampstead," she said, smiling winsomely at him. He returned a tolerant smile. Kara turned to Kim and Ron and said, "Kim, Ron, why don't you and the major go aboard? I have to do my preflight walk around, but that'll only take a few minutes." Major Hampstead handed Kara a checklist and she went to work.

"Miss Possible, Mr. Stoppable, if you'll follow me please?" the major invited, gesturing up the ramp.

It was a little odd, Kim thought, to see Supergirl wearing a pilot's radio headset, and even stranger to listen in as she started the Javelin's engines and talked with the airfield's control tower.

"Tower, this is Javelin six-one-niner, request clearance for departure and a max effort take-off," Kara said, her voice crisp and professional.

Kim glanced at Ron. He was watching Kara with a dreamy expression on his face, and Kim grinned. Ron loved to watch pros work, occasionally deriving an almost sexual pleasure from the experience. Add in the fact that the pro in question was a favorite girlfriend of his and, well, Kim was sure there was a turgid fantasy unfolding in his brain.

"Six-one-niner, you are cleared to depart on runway three-zero. Max-effort approved. Have a safe flight."

Max-effort turned out to mean 'firewall the throttle, go tearing down the runway, retract the landing gear the second it was off the ground, keep skimming the runway until you reached the end, then haul back on the stick and head straight up, riding the brute power of your engines'. It was quite a ride, even if the view was less than spectacular. Still, seeing the sky turn from bright blue to pitch black in a few minutes was something Kim found she enjoyed, from the two previous trips she and Ron had made into orbit.

Despite Kara's claim that she 'hadn't quite mastered landing' they docked at the Watchtower without incident. Major Hampstead went so far as to say "Not bad," which, given the pleased blush that colored Kara's cheeks, must have been high praise.

The major excused himself and Kim, Ron and Kara got right to work. The first order of business was to say hello to the tall, green skinned humanoid waiting for them on the other side of the hanger airlock.

"Ron, Kim, this is J'onn J'onzz, the Martian Manhunter," Kara said, favoring the martian with a bright smile. The Manhunter didn't exactly smile back, but his face became considerably less impassive. To her surprise Kim felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up, and she found herself wondering if he _could_ smile.

"J'onn, these are my friends Ron Stoppable and Kim Possible, better known as Team Possible."

The martian gave a very formal nod that was almost a bow. "Welcome aboard the Watchtower. I've followed your exploits for some time." His voice was dry and cool, with a strange, hard to define inflection that sent a shiver down Kim's spine. The martian held out his hand and Kim took it. His skin was as dry and cool as his voice, with a strange texture that reminded Kim of a snake. She felt her skin crawl and had to suppress an urge to jerk her hand back. If Ron felt any such unease he didn't show it. He took J'onzz's hand and pumped it enthusiastically.

"I've already entered your biometric information into the security system," J'onzz told them. "You'll have access to most of the station. The only areas you won't be able to enter unescorted are the armory, the reactor and environmental control rooms, and compartments designated as personal quarters for League members."

"Understood," Kim said with a nod of her own.

"I'm afraid I won't be able to accompany you on your tour," J'onzz went on. "We have four teams out, and I need to keep an eye on things. Excuse me." With that, he turned and walked away.

"Wow." Kim turned to Kara and gestured at the retreating back. "Is he always like that?"

"You mean cool and dispassionate?" Kim nodded. "Pretty much," Kara continued. "He isn't really that uptight, though," Kara added defensively. "You just have to know him a while before you learn to read his expressions. The martians were a very reserved people by human or argoan standards, and their anatomy is considerably different from yours or mine, so he doesn't have the same range of facial expressions we do, even when he's in this form."

"This form?" Kim repeated, a little uneasily.

"Yeah, he's a shape-shifter of sorts. He's limited to humanoid forms of basically the same height and weight, but his natural form is a lot more, well...alien looking."

Kim decided not to pursue the matter. Whatever it was about J'onzz that gave her the creeps, she was just going to have to learn to deal with it.

The tour was quite pleasant. Only a relative handful of the League's members were aboard the station, which Kara explained wasn't unusual. "Most of us have secret identities. You know, regular lives, friends, family, jobs, that sort of thing. We all have quarters assigned to us, but hardly anyone lives here full time. Usually people only come aboard for meetings, or if they have monitor duty, or to form a team and get their briefing before they head out on a mission."

Kim and Ron were a bit disappointed by that, as they had been looking forward to meeting Kara's colleagues. As it turned out though, in an organization as large as the Justice League 'only a handful' meant ten or fifteen people. One was Vixen, a dark skinned woman in a tight fitting, very low cut body suit that Kim and Ron immediately recognized as fashion supermodel Mari Macabe. To his credit Ron managed to hardly drool at all at the sight of Vixen's cleavage, and even managed to talk her out of an autographed eight by ten color glossy.

There was also Ralph Dibney, the famous Elongated Man. Kim had heard that Dibney was something of a clown, but while he was polite enough, he was clearly distracted and not much interested in conversation. As they walked away Kara explained that Dibney had been recently widowed, and was still coming to terms with his wife's death.

"How did she die?" Kim asked quietly.

"She was murdered," Kara replied in an equally hushed voice.

"Was it some bad guy out for revenge?" Ron inquired.

Kara shook her head. "It was the Atom's ex-wife. Apparently she was trying to...well, it doesn't make a lot of sense, frankly, but I gather she thought the whole thing would lead to her and the Atom getting back together."

Kim and Ron exchanged horrified looks.

Kim started to ask another question but Kara gut her off with a raised hand and a grim look. "It's a long, depressing story, Kim. I'll tell it to you someday, but not now, okay?"

"Okay," Kim agreed, and they went on their way.

What gloom had settled over them was lifted when they ran into the Flash. The Fastest Man Alive lived up to his reputation by hitting on Kim as soon as Kara introduced them, and when that didn't bear any fruit the scarlet speedster sent a few lines Kara's way. She at least smiled, which the Flash seemed to take as encouragement, then he was paged and zipped off in a red blur.

"I never met anybody who talked that much," Ron commented afterwards. "The guy never shut up, and he talked a mile a minute."

"That's the Flash for you," Kara grinned. "I think the only time he's ever still is when he's asleep."

"He seemed interested in you though, Supergirl," Kim said with a sly smile.

Kara rolled her eyes. "Flash is pretty much interested in anything young, female and humanoid, Kim."

They took a turn through the training facilities, most of which were devoted to physical conditioning. In one chamber, separated from the corridor by a wall of glass, they saw a statuesque blonde in a white gi doing warm-up exercises with a bamboo staff while a similarly armed robot stood impassively nearby. Ron peered at the woman intently, then turned to Kara and said, "Black Canary, right?"

"That's right. I think you two will like her. She's very down to earth."

A bit further on was a room equipped as a gymnasium. A brunette in gray shorts and a sweat soaked tee shirt was putting herself through a grueling workout. She was quite muscular, with very little body fat. She wasn't 'cut' like a body builder, but near enough that Kim decided the brunette's ample bosom was the result of surgical enhancement. The only odd thing about her was that she was wearing a mask, a purple thing that covered the upper half of her face and swept up into two points, like horns or ears.

"Who's that?" Ron wondered aloud.

"She goes by Huntress," Kara supplied. "Works mainly on the East Coast. She and the Canary team up once in a while." Kara frowned. "I don't know her real well. She hasn't been a member very long, and she doesn't talk much. Batman vouched for her, though, and that was good enough to get her voted in."

The next area had thicker walls and less glass. The windows of one chamber flickered with flashes of light, and muted explosions made the floor vibrate. Three people were inside. One of them was Zatanna Zatarra, the famous stage magician. The second was a casually dressed young man, perhaps in his late teens. Zatanna, wearing her trademark top hat, tuxedo jacket, white ruffled shirt, fishnet stockings and stiletto heels, was conjuring things out of thin air and hurtling them at the young man, who was (frantically, Kim thought) trying to fend off the barrage. Zatanna was mainly throwing what looked like balls of fire, in various colors, though she added a few mundane solid objects to the mix. Kim about jumped out of her skin when Zatanna pitched a bowling ball at the young man's head and he swatted it aside, right into the window Kim and Ron were looking through. The glass didn't so much as chip, but the bowling ball cracked in two. Floating cross-legged above it all was the blue and gold clad form of Doctor Fate, who was watching the young man intently.

"I recognize Zatanna and Fate," Ron murmured as he watched the spectacle on the other side of the glass, "But who's that?"

"He's a brand new member. His name's Adam, and he's some sort of wizard, or magician, or something like that. 'Mage' is the term he prefers if I remember right."

"What's the difference?" Ron asked, glancing at Kara. She shrugged. "Beats me. It has something to do with the kind of magic he practices. Zee tried to explain it to me, but," Kara passed a hand above her head, "Pfft."

Kim studied the youth. "He's kind of cute," she observed. Kara snorted. "You haven't talked to him yet."

Kim gave Kara a questioning look. Kara grimaced. "Take one part 'know it all' and one part 'I'm the greatest thing since sliced bread', throw in a hefty dose of 'No matter where you've been or what you've done, I was there first and did it better', mix well, and you'll have him," she said, pointing at Adam. As she did so one of Zatanna's energy balls got through Adam's defenses and sent him sprawling. Kara shook her head.

"He seemed to be doing all right," Kim observed as Adam dragged himself to his feet and prepared to resume the exercise. Kara sighed.

"I guess I'm being a little unfair," she confessed. "As irritating as his personality is, he's good in a fight, and he means well. Doctor Fate seems impressed with him; says he has 'potential'. And it's not as if he's the only person in the League with a colossal ego." She was about to say something else when Ron cried out and collapsed, curling into a ball on the floor.

"Ron!" Kim and Kara exclaimed as one. As Kara cradled Ron's head in her arms Kim took his hand and felt his pulse.

"He's so cold!" she exclaimed. Kara's eyes lit up as she bathed Ron in low intensity heat vision. A much brighter light flared in the corridor. Kim looked up to see a huge, glowing ankh shimmer into existence. When it faded, Doctor Fate stood over them.

"The chill he feels is not a result of the absence of heat, Supergirl," Fate said, kneeling beside a trembling Ron. The golden helmed sorcerer spoke a few words and passed his hand over Ron's face. Almost at once Ron's tremors ceased, and a healthy glow replaced the deathlike pallor that had tainted his features. He relaxed and gave Kim and Kara a reassuring smile.

A commotion ensued as Zatanna and Adam barged into the corridor.

"What the hell happened?" Adam demanded.

"Patience, young one," Fate admonished him. Returning his attention to Ron Fate asked, "How do you feel?"

"Like someone stepped on my grave," Ron said softly. Fate turned to Adam and Zatanna. "Did either of you feel anything a moment ago?"

"Like what?" Adam asked.

"Anything unusual, out of the ordinary."

Adam pondered for a bit, then shrugged. "Not that I can recall."

"Zatanna?" The raven haired magician nodded. "It was like thunder, or maybe a bell pealing once, really far away."

Noting the four blank looks being directed at him Fate spoke again. "There was a small but powerful disturbance in the field of mystical energy that infuses the Earth. I am well attuned to the field, so I sensed it clearly, even at this distance. But why it should affect you so strongly is a mystery to me," he added, addressing Ron directly.

"Is he going to be all right?" Kim asked anxiously.

"Do not be frightened," Fate assured her. "He was never in danger, and would have recovered on his own." Fate stood. "Whatever caused the disturbance reeks of necromancy," he proclaimed. "I fear something terrible has happened. I must investigate at once." The ankh flared again, and Doctor Fate was gone.


	6. Test of Strength

****

Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by the Disney Corporation. Supergirl and all related characters and indicia are owned by DC Comics/Warner Bros. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.

__

Triaxx2: I'm not sure where Hawkgirl fits in all this. Frankly, for purposes of my little version of reality, I'm tempted to just ignore the events of 'Starcrossed' and say that the Thangarian invasion hasn't happened here yet, if it ever will.

WWLAOS: I guess I did a good job on the pacing :). Rest assured, your questions will be answered.

eckles: Regarding your question about chapter four, well, anything is possible :).

Gargoylesama: Thanks.

Kim picked up her half empty glass of iced tea, leaned back in her chair and watched with undisguised relief as Ron attacked a tray of tacos. At Kara's suggestion they had interrupted their tour so Ron could shake off the last effects of whatever it was that had happened to him. He'd been a trifle unsteady on his feet, and had placed his hands on the girls' shoulders to support himself as they walked to the Watchtower's cafeteria. There Kim had helped him settle into a chair while Kara fetched Ron some 'emergency snackage', in the form of a dozen tacos, and drinks for herself and Kim. Ron had perked up as soon as Kara set the tray of tacos in front of him, and by the time he was halfway through them he seemed to have completely recovered.

"Feeling better Ron?" Kim asked.

Ron considered the matter. He stood, took a few steps, then turned a cartwheel. "Seems so," he affirmed, favoring her with a smile as he retook his seat. Kim laughed and returned the smile.

"Glad to hear that," Kara added as she returned to the table with a fresh glass of iced tea. She stared thoughtfully at Ron. "I'm still not sure how you managed to sense a mystic event better than Doctor Fate could," she said finally.

Ron gave her a helpless look. "I don't know either," he said.

"Unless it has something to do with the mystical monkey power," Kim observed.

"What do you mean, K.P.?" Ron asked.

"Well," she explained, "Since you have mystical power running all through you, maybe that makes you sensitive to whatever it was that happened?"

"That makes a certain amount of sense," Kara agreed, nodding slowly.

"Yeah," Ron said, "Except that I've had the power for going on four years now, and I've never felt anything even remotely like what just happened."

"Then maybe the 'incident' involved the monkey power specifically," Kim floundered.

"But how?" Kara asked. "Since Monkey Fist died Ron's the only person who has it." She paused. "Isn't he?"

Kim and Ron shared a look. Ron turned to Kara and shrugged. "I don't know," he admitted. "My share of the power didn't seem to get any bigger afterward. Maybe what Monkey Fist had went back to wherever it came from."

"But you destroyed those statues," Kim reminded him.

"Maybe there are more statues," Kara pointed out.

Ron slumped in his chair. "Just what I need," he groused. "Someone else who wants to be a Monkey Master."

Kim decided to change the subject. "Supergirl, I believe you mentioned wanting to work out with us? You also said you'd tell us how that was possible after we got to the Watchtower. Well, here we are."

Kara took the hint. "Sure, Kim," she grinned. "It's easy, really. All of the training rooms have lights that can simulate the characteristic spectra of my home star, Rao."

"Artificial red sunlight," Kim nodded, "Which cancels out your superpowers."

Kara returned the nod. "Exactly. Not that I wouldn't still have an advantage, coming from a higher gravity world. To cancel that we'd have to crank the gravity in the gym up to Argoan levels, and I doubt either of you would be very combat effective weighing sixty percent more than normal."

Ron's eyes narrowed as he contemplated that. "Still," he began, "Raw strength is only one factor unarmed combat. Speed, reach, mass and height play into it too. For example, when Kim and I spar, she knows better than to get too close to me. Instead she tries to wear me down by making me chase her, since she has better endurance than I do."

Kara giggled. "You sound like a teacher, Ron!" Ron blushed slightly.

"I do help out a little with the instructing in my martial arts class, at least with brand new students," he confessed. Ron's brow furrowed briefly. "That reminds me. I have a question I've been wanting to ask you for a while, but I never knew how to bring it up. Now that we're talking about your strength, I was wondering: Just how strong are you?"

"How strong am I?" Kara repeated, folding her arms across her chest and quirking an eyebrow at Ron.

Ron grinned, suddenly excited. "Yeah! I mean," he clarified, "I know you're 'super strong' and all, but how strong is that?"

Kara glanced at Kim, who rolled her eyes, shrugged and gave Kara an embarrassed smile.

Seeing that Kara was reluctant to answer, Ron spoke up. "I can bench two fifty," he bragged, "and my max is three fifteen."

"Ah, well," Kara hesitated, "in an artificial Argoan environment, when I work out I can bench press the bar and two plates. That'd weigh one thirty-five at normal Earth gravity."

"That's cool," Ron acknowledged, adding, "You're pretty strong for a girl."

Kara glared at him.

"But," he went on, "what about your super strength?"

Kara sighed. She didn't like to talk about her powers. It felt too much like bragging when she did. Still, Ron and Kim were her friends, and if they were going to work together it was only prudent that they know what the limits of her abilities were.

"Follow me," she commanded, and lead the duo into the Operations Center. Booster Gold was on monitor duty, and waved at her as she walked in. Kara waved back and strolled over to one of the Center's computer terminals. A few typed commands later the computer's screen displayed a file titled 'Kara In-ze: strength test." The date on the file was just over three years old. The video showed Kara dressed in civilian clothes, approaching an orange painted block nearly as large as she was. She picked it up, held it over her head with one arm, then tossed it, sending the block sailing through the air to land several hundred feet away.

"That was what we started with," Kara explained. "That block was five feet on a side, and they went up in five foot increments. You know, five, ten, fifteen feet, and so on."

Ron nodded. "How big was the biggest one?" he asked.

Kara started to answer, then tensed up. "Batman's behind us," she said quietly.

Silence.

"I can hear the blood flowing through your veins," Kara said testily, not turning her head. "You may as well speak up."

Kim and Ron did turn. The black clad figure of Gotham City's Dark Knight loomed behind them.

"Playing tour guide, Supergirl?" he asked, his voice cold.

"Yes," Kara sneered. "These are Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable. They're Global Justice's liaisons to the League, and I'm introducing them around." Kara turned to Kim and Ron and smiled sweetly. "Kim, Ron, this is Batman," she said in a sugary voice. Ron started to stammer a reply when Batman, whose expression never changed, spoke again in that same cold voice.

"The largest, in this particular test, was forty feet on a side and the cubes, Mr. Stoppable, were high tensile carbon steel." Batman turned his head slightly to look directly at Ron. "_Solid_ high tensile carbon steel," he added. Batman crossed to the computer console and manipulated the controls. The screen blinked to a view of Kara, in her Supergirl uniform, holding a huge cube over her head. The thing was colossal, far bigger than a house, and Kara was obviously having trouble with it.

"Now," Batman expounded, his tone never changing, "thanks to natural physical development and a rigorous exercise regimen, Supergirl can handle a cube fifty feet on a side."

Ron gulped. "Ah, how much does a fifty foot steel cube weigh," he stammered before appending, "Sir?"

"Twenty-seven thousand tons," Batman said, slowly and deliberately.

"Twenty-seven thousand tons," Ron repeated incredulously, his eyes bulging. He glanced at Kara, who blushed and gave him an almost apologetic look.

"You can hold a _battleship_ over your head!" Ron exclaimed.

"A small one," Kara confirmed, blushing brighter.

"That is so cool!"

Elsewhere, two days later:

Monty Fiske walked through the training course that had been set up in the ballroom of his benefactor's mansion. He walked because he was still getting used to his new body, as well as shaking off the effects of having been, well, dead for over a year. He smiled thinly. To be honest he'd actually managed a brisk pace this time, one that bordered on jogging. If he continued to progress at his current rate he'd be back to normal in no time. Normal. Fiske paused to study his reflection in one of the mirrors that graced the walls of the ballroom. Outwardly his new body was much like his old one had been. The differences were so slight that Fiske doubted any but the most skilled observers would note the alterations DNAmy had made. Fiske smiled again, much more warmly. The short, chubby geneticist had gone to extraordinary lengths to restore him to life. Since returning to the land of the living and learning that little fact, Fiske had begun to see her in quite a new light. He had known she had a crush on him, ever since he'd first contacted her about modifying his original body to make it better suited to both the mystical monkey power and the most subtle aspects of tai-shing-pek-kwar, but he hadn't returned her feelings. Even now he wasn't sure he felt anything more than gratitude for her efforts to restore him to life, but he was, he admitted, now at least willing to entertain the notion that more might be possible.

Fiske turned from side to side, occasionally flexing his muscles. His new body was a masterpiece. DNAmy had kept the best of his original human DNA, while weaving into it snippets of genetic material from a host of different species. Most came from primates of one sort or another, but she had added other animals as well. The results included much higher potential strength as well as increased agility, heightened senses, accelerated healing and a much higher threshold of pain. Not that it was perfect just yet. He had a lot of work to do. For all its potential, the vat grown body he now wore was sadly lacking in muscle tone. He also had to get used to his new senses and work the added advantage they would give him into his fighting style. Weeks, if not months of hard work lay ahead, before he would be battle ready.

"Honey Bunny?" DNAmy's voice drew Fiske's attention away from the mirror. She was standing in the ballroom's main entrance, a huge smile on her moon face. Fiske bowed to her.

"Yes, dear lady?"

"I brought you a present, Sugar Booger," she exclaimed gleefully, and stepped aside. A short man with a handlebar moustache stood behind her, carry a tray with a teapot, cups, and a pile of what looked like cucumber sandwiches.

"Afternoon tea, Milord?"

"Bates!" Fiske exclaimed. He scampered over to the diminutive older man. "I thought you were still in prison!" Fiske said, laying his hands on Bates' shoulders.

"I was, Milord, until two days ago," Bates confirmed. Fiske just stared at him. Fiske's own escape from custody, that first time he'd tangled with Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable, had come when Bates, ever the faithful manservant, had caused a ruckus that drew their guards' attention away from Fiske, allowing him to make a break for freedom. Bates had ended up in Parkhurst Prison on the Isle of Wight, where he had remained ever since, despite two attempts by Fiske to break him out. Fiske felt a twinge of guilt at that. Bates had aged considerably during his time behind bars.

"This was your doing, wasn't it?" Fiske inquired of DNAmy, who smiled and nodded. Fiske returned the smile and bowed again. "Once more I find myself in your debt, dear lady." To Bates he said, "It's good to see you again, old friend. I'll be glad to have your help for what lies ahead."

Fiske and DNAmy seated themselves while Bates poured the tea. They were conversing between bites and sips when Fiske became aware of an added presence. He looked up to see the slender figure of Felix Faust glide into the room. Faust was, as usual, clad head to toe in black silk, and moved almost soundlessly on slippered feet. He halted in front of the duo and looked down at them with a slight smile. Faust sketched a bow and said, "Good afternoon, Lord Fiske. I see you're adjusting quickly to your new frame."

"I have a good way to go yet," Fiske demurred, "But I am coming along. Please, join us," he added, gesturing to an empty chair. Faust sat down. Bates poured a third cup of tea and offered it to Faust, who accepted it wordlessly. The wizard sipped at it, then regarded Fiske and DNAmy frankly.

"I thought this would be a good time to discuss the matter of my compensation for services rendered to date," Faust said, getting directly to the point. Fiske tried not to wince. Grateful as his was to DNAmy for having him brought back from the dead, Fiske was a trifle annoyed that she hadn't settled all the details before the job was done. Instead she'd opted for an 'in exchange for future services to be determined later' clause. Now she was going to find out just how much it would cost to pay the piper, as it were.

Faust seemed to read Fiske like a book. He smiled again. "Don't worry. What I have in mind isn't too burdensome." Faust studied Fiske. "You want to kill Ron Stoppable, both to avenge yourself on him for killing you, and to acquire his share of the mystical monkey power." Fiske said nothing, but did nod slightly. Faust turned to DNAmy. "You also desire revenge, against Kim Possible for thwarting your own schemes and for the trouble she's caused Lord Fiske, and against Ron Stoppable for Lord Fiske's sake. I, on the other hand, crave vengeance on the Justice League. I believe that by working together we can all get what we want, and more besides."

"I'm not sure I understand how that will be possible," Fiske said slowly. "I'm willing to do my part, but I've never encountered the Justice League."

"You have met Supergirl though," Faust countered, "and she is an associate member of the League, as well as an ally of Team Possible. All we have to do is contrive a set of circumstances that will bring Team Possible and Supergirl, and perhaps a few other Leaguers, into a trap. Once we do that, I can not only draw Ron Stoppable's share of the monkey power out of him and give it to you, but his life force as well." Faust leaned in, his smile turning cruel. "And not only his, but that of the others as well. Along with their various abilities. Imagine what you could do with that kind of power," he hissed suggestively. Seeing the looks of understanding on his guests' faces Faust leaned back. "Now, since the both of you have been rather busy these last few days, I've taken the liberty of drawing up a preliminary plan. I'm sure that between the three of us we can refine it into something nearly foolproof." Faust produced and unrolled a large scroll, spreading it out on the small table so Fiske and DNAmy could read it.

"Take a few days to study it," Faust suggested. "We can meet again here to discuss any questions or suggestions you have." He rose and nodded courteously to the two. Fiske returned the gesture, then Faust turned on a silent heel and glided away.


	7. Bait, Part 1

Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by the Disney Corporation. Supergirl and all related characters and indicia are owned by DC Comics/Warner Bros. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.

Gotham City

It was after midnight when a van with _Conundrum Electrical Contractors_ painted on its sides parked on a street in the heart of the downtown. Six men clad in coveralls climbed out, five of them carrying toolboxes or other equipment. The sixth man, the leader, paused and glanced up and down the street. In one direction he could see a man leaning against a parked car. As the leader watched, the man lit a cigarette. The leader smiled. All clear that way. In the opposite direction the leader saw a couple sitting on the front stoop of an apartment building. One of them, the woman, got up and went into the building. All clear that way too.

"Lets go," the leader commanded in a hushed voice. With equally quiet acknowledgments the others followed him into a nearby alley. Said alley ran the length of this particular block and was cluttered with the detritus common to such places: overflowing dumpsters, stacked bags of garbage, scraps of paper and other debris, and a couple of semi-comatose winos. The men moved quietly, not wanting to draw attention to themselves, but made no effort to keep to the shadows. That, the leader had decided, would look too suspicious. Instead they would rely on the cover he had devised to allay the misgivings of anyone that happened to see them.

Presently they arrived at their destination: the loading dock at the back of the Gotham City Museum of Art. The six men stopped just short of it. The loading dock area was watched by a pair of surveillance cameras that gave complete coverage, at least in theory. A few well placed bribes, along with a little blackmail, had however gleaned the very useful fact that one of the cameras had a small dead zone along the wall of an adjacent building. Said dead zone lead to another blind spot, from which in turn a person could slither on their belly into an alcove set into the museum's back wall, all without being seen. Once inside that alcove a person would be out of the cameras' view, and have access to a locked security door.

One by one the six men made their way to the door, careful not to show themselves. Once there, one of them set to work on the door's locking mechanism while the others kept a nervous eye out for unwanted visitors. After ten anxious minutes the leader leaned over the shoulder of the man working on the lock and hissed, "What's taking so long, Coombe?"

The man named Coombe looked over his shoulder and hissed back. "This ain't the kinda lock you can pick with a bent paperclip, Riddler. It's got anti-tampers wired right into the building's alarm system. You want I should set it off by rushing?" The last came out rather sarcastically. Edward Nygma scowled but said nothing. Coombe had a point, after all. Nygma straightened up and turned away. "I knew I had too much coffee before we got started. It's got my nerves on edge," he muttered. Nygma forced himself to remain still and quiet as the seconds ticked by. An interminable time later Coombe whispered, "Got it." He didn't try to open the door though. Nygma turned to another of his men and said, "Get the Faker ready." The man in question opened the tool box he'd been carrying . In the faint light filtering into the alcove the box was revealed to be a shell that concealed a purpose built computer. He slid the box to Coombe, who drew out a ribbon cable with a credit card shaped probe on the end with one hand, while the other flipped the switch that brought the Faker to life. After a short pause to let it warm up, Coombe opened the security door. Just inside, chest high on the wall, was an alarm panel. Coombe slid the probe into the reader slot on the panel and pressed the Faker's start button. This was the moment of truth. There was a thirty second delay built into the alarm system to allow a person entering the building to input the code that would disarm the system. Coombe swallowed. They'd know soon if the code they'd acquired was good. If it was they were golden. If not...well, they'd have to run for it.

Nygma watched the control panel. A red light had been gleaming on it when the door opened, indicating that the alarm had been tripped. A few moments after Coombe started the Faker the red light turned green. Nygma wasn't the only one in his little party to sigh with relief. Their wait wasn't over, though. Inputting the access code had only been a small first step toward the Faker's real job: taking over the museum's alarm system and making sure that it reported that all was well inside, no matter what the internal sensors said to the contrary. More anxious minutes passed, but in less time than it had taken to gain entry in the first place, the Faker's telltale lights showed it had done its work. They were clear.

"Everyone inside," Nygma commanded, "But don't go too far." Once his men were inside and the door was shut Nygma peeled off his coveralls to reveal his trademark green suit with the purple question mark sewn on to the left breast pocket.

"Mask or bowler, boss?" one of his men asked politely. Nygma pondered the matter.

"This feels like a formal affair," Nygma proclaimed solemnly. "Give me the bowler." Nygma took the proffered hat and settled it on his head. He held out his hand again. The same henchman pressed Nygma's cane against his open palm. Nygma spun the cane in a wide circle and giggled. Now that they were safe inside he felt a lot more at ease. Tipping his hat at a jaunty angle Nygma set off down the corridor. "Come along, boys," he commanded gaily, "We've got work to do."

The galley housing the museum's Southeast Asia collection was dimly lit by moonlight shining through windows set high up on one of the chamber's walls. Nygma strode purposefully into the room. There were an abundance of valuable items on display, but he had only five on his 'shopping list' as it were. Disguising his appearance he'd scouted the gallery in advance, carefully committing to memory the location of each of the items he wanted to steal. Now he approached the glass case that held the first item, a thousand year old necklace of jade beads.

"Hello, gorgeous," Nygma breathed as he raised his cane over his head.

"That's far enough, Riddler," a cold voice declared from the shadows overhead. Nygma looked up to see a dark, caped figure drop from the rafters to the floor a short distance away. As the figure straightened Nygma doffed his hat and bowed with a flourish. "Batgirl. What an unpleasant surprise."

The lithe redhead sometimes derisively referred to as the Cute Crusader by Gotham's tabloids assumed a fighting stance.

"You have two choices, Nygma. You and your goons can come quietly, or I can beat the snot of you and then drag you to jail."

Nygma chuckled. "Actually I have three options, Batgirl. The two you presented, of course, and the one wherein my men kill you and leave your battered corpse as a reminder to all that I'm not a man to be trifled with."

Batgirl smirked. "And just where in Gotham did you find hired muscle that could manage that?"

Nygma sighed theatrically. "You're right of course, my dear. Gotham's pool of talent is admittedly shallow these days. As a result, I was forced to look elsewhere." Nygma twitched his cane. One of his men stepped forward. He was a big fellow, easily six and a half feet tall, and bulky enough to weigh three hundred pounds or more.

"Muscle-bound thugs are a dime a dozen, Riddler," Batgirl sneered.

"True," Nygma agreed affably. "Muscle-bound metahuman thugs are a bit rarer, though." The big man stepped into the light. He too was a redhead, with a broad, flat face that Batgirl recognized instantly, even though she'd only seen the man's mug shot before.

Nygma turned his head slightly. "Mammoth, do me a favor and tear Batgirl in half, would you?" Mammoth's lips split apart in a cold but toothy smile.

"It'll be a pleasure, mate," Mammoth said, his Australian accent confirming what Batgirl already knew. "Say yer prayers, luv." He lunged at her, his arms spread wide to crush her in a lethal bear hug. They closed on empty air. Mammoth looked around in bewilderment, then craned his thick neck to look up. Batgirl hadn't detached herself from the line she'd originally used to drop to the floor. Reversing the line's small but powerful winch had pulled her out of his reach just in time.

Dangling from the ceiling Batgirl looked down to see Mammoth smile up at her. "So you want to give old Mammoth a bit of sport before he kills you, eh? Right thoughtful of ya, luv." He snatched up a concrete bench and hurtled it at her. A quickly deployed second line allowed Batgirl to dodge, just. As she swung she plucked a batarang from her utility belt and sent it sailing toward her foe. He didn't even try to evade it. The hammer-forged, tempered steel missile struck him square in the chest, bounced off and fell to the floor with a metallic clatter.

"Do that again, luv, it tickles," Mammoth invited mockingly, before sending a bronze Buddha flying at her. As she evaded the statue Batgirl admitted to herself that she was outclassed. Batman might have been able to defeat Mammoth, but Batgirl couldn't even begin to guess how he might accomplish the task. She would have to retreat. Her only other option was to call for help, and hope that she could keep Mammoth busy long enough for it to arrive, if she managed to survive that long. Batgirl made her decision, and pressed a button on her utility belt.

"This is Batgirl, in the Gotham Museum of Art. I'm up against Mammoth, repeat, Mammoth. I need help. Anyone you can send. Hurry!"

For eighty-nine seconds Batgirl managed to evade Mammoth's attacks. Then, as she swung out of the way of yet another thrown object, she ran out of line for her grapple guns. She'd been using two at once, swinging from one even as she launched another. She'd been more worried about running out of hooks but now, as she launched a new line and cut herself loose from the old one, Batgirl watched in horror as the new grapple flew a whole six feet and stopped dead. She fell.

A trained tumbler, Batgirl managed to roll with the impact when she hit the floor. Nothing broke, but she had the wind partly knocked out of her, and was slightly stunned. As she struggled to get up Batgirl watched Mammoth stomp across the floor towards her, his right hand drawn back in a massive fist.

"Game over, luv," he jeered as the fist started down. Batgirl tensed to try and dodge, when a red, white and blue blur slammed into Mammoth from the side. He went flying, crashing into and through the museum's exterior wall. Batgirl looked up at the new arrival and smiled gratefully. "Supergirl, are you a sight for sore eyes!"

Kara grinned at her friend. "Tell you what," she suggested as a roar of rage echoed through the gaping hole in the wall. "I'll handle big, dumb and ugly while you finish whatever it is you came here for."

"Deal!" Batgirl exclaimed, rising to her feet. As Kara turned to face an enraged Mammoth, Batgirl sprinted after the fleeing Edward Nygma. He and his gang were retreating back the way they had come. They were out of the building by the time Batgirl caught up with them. A batarang took one of Nygma's goons down as he ran. One of the fleeing henchman turned and opened fire with a submachine gun, forcing Batgirl to dive for cover. Another batarang told for the gunner, but by the time Batgirl had dealt with him and gained the street Nygma and his gang had made their escape, the sound of squealing tires and the odor of burnt rubber the only things marking their passage.

* * *

Batgirl watched as Kara held Mammoth still while a Gotham Police officer placed a restraining collar around the metahuman's neck. It was a bit strange to see such a powerful man held fast, unable to move, by a girl less than half his weight and almost a foot shorter. Still, Batgirl thought wryly, when said girl was Supergirl... Batgirl hoped the restraining collar would be enough. Gotham was unused to dealing with metahumans, and had no manacles or shackles that could cope with Mammoth's immense strength. The collar would induce a state of artificial sleep, allowing the GCPD to move Mammoth to a facility that capable of holding him. The officer who had placed the collar stepped back and activated it. Since it was doubtful Mammoth had any idea what the collar was supposed to do to him, it was unlikely he was faking when he sagged in Kara's arms and began to snore. 

While a half dozen officers carried Mammoth's limp form to a waiting paddy wagon Kara approached Batgirl. "The Riddler got away?"

Batgirl nodded glumly. "I'm afraid so."

Kara smiled encouragingly. "You'll catch him. You seem to make a habit of it."

Batgirl actually chuckled. "It's not that that worries me. It's the lecture I'm going to get for letting him get away in the first place that I'm not looking forward to."

A new voice cut in. "Batgirl." Batgirl turned to look at the Commissioner of the GCPD, James Gordon. Her father, though as far as Kara knew, he was unaware of that fact. If he knew otherwise he made no sign of it, just held out a three and a half inch floppy disk.

"This is a list of everything the Riddler stole, Batgirl, along with some background information on each item. Hopefully you'll find it useful."

Batgirl took the list with a nod. "Thank you, Commissioner."

* * *

Batgirl slipped the floppy into a drive on the console of the Batcave's powerful Crime Computer. Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she downloaded the disk's contents and used them to set her search parameters. "I've set the Computer to search for every scrap of information it can find on the things Riddler stole, and compile a list of anything and everything they have in common. That should give us some idea of who Riddler might try and sell them to, and why he wanted to steal them in the first place." 

"How long will that take?" Kara asked from where she stood leaning against a railing. Batgirl reached up and pulled back her cowl. "Long enough for us to have some tea and cookies I think," Barbara Gordon said with a grin.

Kara sighed as Alfred Pennyworth refilled her teacup. She picked up another cookie and took a bite. "These are wonderful, Alfred." The elderly butler smiled politely. "One is always pleased to learn that one's work is appreciated, Miss Kent," he said formally. Behind him Barbara grinned widely, then sat up straight as a chime sounded from the Crime Computer. She went to the display and scanned it. Kara moved up behind her and drew in a sharp breath. The items had three things in common. All of them had been found in Cambodia. All of them were on loan to Gotham from the British Museum. And all of them had once been part of the private collection of Lord Monte Fiske.


	8. Bait, Part 2

Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by the Disney Corporation. Supergirl and all related characters and indicia are owned by DC Comics/Warner Bros. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.

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_Triaxx2: Minor characters can be a lot of fun._

Later that day

"Why would the Riddler steal stuff that used to belong to Monkey Fist?" Ron wondered aloud. He and Kim were in their dorm apartment, engaged in a conference call with Wade and Kara.

"That's a good question," Kim allowed. "But a better one is, why, out of the hundreds of items on display in that gallery, did Riddler take the only five things that once belonged to Monkey Fist?"

"It could be a coincidence, Kim," Wade interjected, his voice cracking slightly as he spoke. Kim looked at the flickering image of her long time tech guru and hid a smile. Wade was a few months past his thirteenth birthday, and puberty was starting to kick in. He'd gained a couple of inches in height, and his cheeks and chin were starting to sprout whiskers. The pitch of his voice was plummeting as well, giving every sign of heading for a deep, rumbling bass.

"Sure it could, Wade, but what are the odds of that?" Kim asked seriously. She smiled as Wade's brow furrowed and he did the math in his head.

"Three thousand, three hundred and fifty to one," he answered a moment later.

"I don't like those odds," Kim said, shaking her head. "There's got to be more to it than mere chance."

"Like what, K.P?" Ron demanded.

Kim shrugged. "I don't know. I just have a bad feeling about it, that's all."

"Well," Kara cut in, her voice crackling over the speaker phone, "As far as motivation goes, Batgirl said that there was a rumor going around Gotham that someone had offered a quarter of a million bucks to anyone who could get a hold of the stuff Riddler stole. Since he was supposed to be short of cash, it makes sense that he'd take a crack at the job."

"What sort of person would shell out a quarter of a million dollars for some trinkets?" Ron asked.

"Who knows? There are a lot of people who collect art, and not all of them care if the stuff they're buying is 'hot' or not," Kara replied.

"Wade, how did this stuff end up in Gotham City anyway?" Kim asked. Wade's fingers flew over his keyboards. There was a pause as he read whatever information he'd managed to find, then he turned toward the camera.

"When Fiske was arrested after your first encounter with him, he had to sell off part of his private art collection to finance his legal defense," Wade explained. "After he was convicted, the British government confiscated the rest of it, along with his estate. Some of it was given to various museums in Britain, and some of it was sold at auction to cover Fiske's fines."

Kim gazed at the ceiling as she absorbed that. "Did anyone take an unusual interest in the sale? I mean, was there one person who bought a lot of what was put up for sale?"

Wade shook his head. "I can't say for sure without doing a little digging. There's nothing in the news articles about one big buyer, though."

"Okay, Wade. Here's what I want. I want a list of everyone who bought something at the initial auction, along with what they bought and how much they paid. I also want you to look for subsequent sales, if there have been any, as well as thefts," Kim ordered.

"Can do, Kim," Wade promised. "It may be a day or two, if that's all right?" Kim nodded.

"Batgirl is going to keep nosing around to see if she can find out who this mysterious buyer is," Kara added. "I'll pass along anything she finds out."

"Sounds good, Kara," Kim acknowledged. "Well, it seems we've pursued this as far as we can for now." She glanced at her watch. "I have a class in fifteen minutes, so I'll talk to you guys later."

"Later, Kim," Kara's voice said.

"I'll get started on that search right away," Wade threw in. As Kim rose and left the room he said, "Ron, Kara, I have to get busy, so I'll see you later." After acknowledging their responses Wade disconnected. Ron eyed the speaker phone.

"So, Kara," he said after the briefest of pauses.

"Yes, Ron?" she asked in an innocent, breathy voice.

"You doing anything tonight?" There was a pause, and Ron could practically see her pout in disappointment.

"I'm afraid so, Ron. Superman asked me to keep an eye on things in Metropolis for the next few days while he takes care of some out of town business."

Ron's face fell. "Oh. Well, no big, maybe some other time."

"Sure. Maybe we can do something this weekend, if we're free," Kara suggested.

"Sounds good. Shall I call you, or do you want to call me?" Ron inquired.

"How about you call me?"

"I'll do that. I just hope our schedules can mesh," Ron said fervently.

"I doubt that's all you hope will mesh," Kara said with a wicked giggle. Ron was glad there was no one around to see him blush.

"Tease," he mumbled accusingly.

"Only because I know you love it," Kara rejoined, still giggling.

Elsewhere

Monkey Fist sat in front of a computer in the 'office' part of the suite of rooms Felix Faust had set aside for his use. If asked, Monkey Fist would be the first to admit that he was no more than a dabbler when it came to the internet. He was, however, well acquainted with a number of people who were excellent hackers and who had no qualms about breaking into other peoples computers, provided the price was right. Posing as Bates to keep his return from the great beyond a secret, he'd hired one of those hackers to keep an eye on the e-mail traffic of various museums and auction houses. He'd also made contact with his favorite unscrupulous art dealer and arranged the theft at the Gotham City Art Museum.

Monkey Fist had been surprised and more than a little worried when word got back to him that the Riddler had pulled the heist, and that Batgirl and Supergirl had both showed up at the scene, but on reflection he'd decided that the Riddler's involvement was actually a boon to their plans. They did want the Justice League to eventually take an interest in their planned crime spree, and while the Riddler wasn't one of the League's regular enemies, he'd do when it came to attracting the attention of costumed do-gooders. The notion that Batman himself might get involved at this stage had sent chills down Monkey Fist's spine, but Faust had seemed unperturbed. Batman had an almost supernatural knack for unraveling mysteries on the basis of very few clues. Fortunately though, he seemed not to be getting involved.

Monkey Fist moved his mouse and clicked on the icon of his e-mail program. When it opened his face lit up. There was a message from his hacker-for-hire.

"Bates," it began bluntly, "So far..." Monkey Fist quickly skimmed through it, then went back and read it carefully. It seemed that Kim Possible's tech expert had been in contact not only with museums and auction houses, but Scotland Yard as well. Monkey Fist smiled. He hadn't thought to mention the Yard. Apparently his hacker friend had initiative.

"So," he said softly when he finished reading the electronic message. "They're nibbling at the bait. Good. Now to jiggle it a bit and see if we can get them to bite." He composed a quick message to the shady art dealer and sent it on its way.

Go City

The mayor of Go City, impeccably dressed in a black tuxedo with a bright red bow tie, approached the podium set up in the main hall of his hosts' estate. The large crowd of expensively attired men and women ceased their chatter, looking on expectantly. The mayor tapped the podium's microphone.

"Is this on?" he joked, and a wave of laugher ran through the assembly.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Go City is famous for a number of reasons, one of which is our outstanding history museum. Not only does its collection rival any museum in America, it is world renowned as a center for research and education. The museums prominence in recent years is due in large part to the work of two people, our hosts, Harold and Jennifer Krathmeyer." The mayor paused as the crowd applauded politely. "You all know that this little soirée is being held to raise money for the museum. What you may not know is what those funds are earmarked for. To give you the inside dope, as it were, allow me to turn the microphone over to the Chairman of the museum's board of directors, Mister Harold Krathmeyer!" The mayor stepped aside as a storm of applause erupted, and a distinguished looking older man approached the podium. The mayor joined in the applause and nodded graciously while plastering a sincere looking smile on his face. Personally he despised Krathmeyer, both Krathmeyers in fact, but they were too influential in Go City politics for him to alienate. Instead, while Krathmeyer dug for his notes, the mayor assumed a pose of interested attention.

"Thank you, Mister Mayor, for that wonderful introduction," Krathmeyer began. "As the mayor indicated, the funds we're raising tonight have a specific purpose in mind. The National Museum of India has put together a traveling collection that details the origins and development of the Hindu religion, and its influence on Indian culture, and we'd like to have the collection come here. We have to raise two and a half million dollars, though, to cover the costs of shipping and insurance, before we can finalize the deal. To give you an added incentive to dig deep, the National Museum sent us a few items to give us a taste of what we'd be getting if we manage to meet our fundraising goal." Krathmeyer gestured as his wife drew back a red curtain that had screened off part of the hall to reveal an intricately carved stand with six small statues adorning it. The crowd pressed forward, eager to get a better view

"These statues represent some of the multitude of Hindu deities," Krathmeyer continued. "To tell you a little about each of them, they are, from left to right: Surya, the sun god, carved from an elephant tusk about seven hundred years ago; Agni, the god of fire and lightning, fashioned from jet and pearl; Hanuman, the monkey god of..." A loud boom interrupted Krathmeyer's speech, as the double doors at the end of the hall burst inward in a hail of splinters.

Five garishly clad people, three men and two women, strode through the ruined doors.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!" the man in the lead declared grandly. "Everyone stay calm and no one will get hurt!"

"The Royal Flush Gang!" someone in the crowd exclaimed.

"Quite right," the man dressed as King confirmed, bowing from the waist. Turning to the others he gestured to the crowd and said, "Jack, Ten, get their valuables." To Queen he said, "My dear, the statues, if you please?"

The mayor stepped into Queen's path. "Look you, you can't just barge in here and..." He didn't finish. King, who was carrying a golden scepter, touched the end of it to the mayor's chest. There was a flash of white, and the mayor went flying backwards to collapse in a heap on the floor.

"Anyone else feel like interfering?" King asked, his voice suddenly ice cold. The crowd shrank back.

"We feel like interfering, 'King'," a new voice interjected calmly. King whirled.

"The Go Team! " King yelped. Hego, his immense bulk filling the doorway, smiled as Mego and the Wego's spread out behind him.

"That's right, King. Did you really think you could pull a job in our town without us trying to stop you?"

King snarled. "Oh, I figured you'd try to stop us. That's why I planned ahead, as it were. Ace!" King snapped. "Deal with the blue buffoon! Jack! Help me with these other idiots!"

Ace's face, whitened like all the other members of the Gang, remained totally impassive as he turned to face Hego. Without a word the man, who was even more muscular than Hego, charged.

Leaving Ten to continue her work, the man called Jack drew his own scepter and joined King. The Wego's duplicated themselves until there were ten of them, then started evacuating the crowd and going after Ten, Jack and Queen. Mego squared off against King, and battle was joined. It didn't last very long. The Royal Flush Gang were soon lying in a heap on the floor, with the exception of Ace. Hego had been shocked and horrified when he twisted Ace's arm and it came off in his hand, until he saw the wires and cables protruding from the wreckage of Ace's shoulder. That, along with Ace's complete lack of a pain response, led Hego to the obvious conclusion.

"A robot, eh? That makes my job a lot easier," Hego had declared smugly, before proceeding to pound Ace into scrap.

* * *

"Not much of a fight," Mego said, watching as paramedics helped the mayor into a waiting ambulance.

"They _were_ easier -"

"- than I expected," the Wego's agreed. Mego rolled his eyes. "Do you have to finish each others sentences all the time?" he demanded. The Wego's just laughed.

"I can see why the Justice League don't think much of them," Hego observed. "They aren't very good."

"The way I understand it," Mego replied, "The original Gang were a real handful. These guys just appropriate the name and the look."

"And thanks to us, that's all they appropriated tonight," Hego said theatrically. Mego rolled his eyes again.

"Not quite, I'm afraid," a familiar voice said from behind them. The Go Team turned to see the Chief of Police approaching.

"What do you mean, Chief?" Hego asked.

"We recovered all of the personal valuables," the Chief said, "But one of the statues is missing. We just reviewed the security tape. It shows one of the guests, a woman, making off with it during the confusion."

"Well, if that's the case she should be easy to identify," Hego reasoned. "The party was invitation only, so her name will be on the guest list. Which statue was taken?"

"The one carved from obsidian, that looked like a monkey," the Chief answered.

"Uh, Chief?" the voice belonged to a uniformed officer, who was walking up with a thin, white-bound book in his hands.

"What is it?" the Chief asked.

"I was just looking over the guest book, Chief. Unless someone was playing a joke, we may have trouble getting that statue back." The officer flipped the book around and pointed to one of the signatures. The Chief read the name and address aloud.

"Selina Kyle, Gotham City."

Behind him the Go Team chorused as one, "Catwoman!"

* * *

Selina Kyle laughed with delight as she accelerated onto the interstate. The engine of her rented sports car droned as she steered with one hand and idly stroked her prize with the other. Hiring the Royal Flush Gang and using them as a diversion had been an act of pure genius on her part. Sure, she could have snuck in after the party was over and made off with the statue (and anything else she wanted) with nobody the wiser until she was long gone, but this had been so much more _fun_! Making cops and superheroes look like fools was almost as entertaining as swiping stuff right out from under their noses. Even the apparently needless risk of signing her own name in the guest book had a purpose. No doubt the authorities were taking steps to intercept her on her way back to Gotham. Unfortunately for them, she wasn't going to Gotham. Her employer had requested that she deliver the statue to him in New Orleans, a request Selina had been happy grant, having never been to the Big Easy despite a long standing desire to visit.

"So, handsome," she said, addressing the statue, "after I turn you over to your new owner and collect my finders fee, I think I'll take a little vacation. I've never had real Cajun cooking, and I hear the food in the French Quarter is fantastic."

Selina gave the statue a flirtatious glance. "Nothing to say?" she purred. "Or are you just the silent type?" With another laugh she turned her attention to the road, setting the cruise control as she did so. She had a two day drive ahead of her, and the last thing she wanted was to get pulled over for something as mundane as speeding.


	9. Bait, Part 3

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Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by the Disney Corporation. Supergirl and all related characters and indicia are owned by DC Comics/Warner Bros. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.

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continental-line, eckles, Triaxx2, gargoylesama: Thanks for the reviews, glad you all liked it.

Ron regarded his opponent carefully. He'd come up to the Watchtower to spar with Kara, only to find that she'd been called away on a mission to help a stricken cargo ship in the South Atlantic. Now he stood under the bright lights of one the Justice League's training rooms, facing one of the best martial artists in the world. Or so Green Arrow had claimed. It was possible that Arrow had been exaggerating, which wouldn't have been a surprise, given his bias. However, the easy grace with which the woman opposite Ron moved suggested that Arrow had been telling the truth this time. She was half again his age, with blue eyes that sparkled merrily, and hair that fell in golden waves to the middle of her back. She was breathtakingly beautiful, in a wholesome, girl next door sort of way, and Ron felt a twinge of attraction. He gave himself a mental shake, then pushed that notion out of his mind. 'Green Arrow would use me for target practice,' Ron thought with a grin.

The blue eyed blonde Ron was facing smiled as well, steepling her fingers and bowing over her hands. "Are you ready, Ronald-san?" she asked formally.

Ron mimicked the gestures and replied, "I am ready, Canary-san."

"Begin," she commanded, and Ron attacked. He had all the usual advantages of a man fighting a woman: he was taller, heavier and stronger, and Ron assumed that Black Canary would enjoy the usual female advantage of greater endurance. At the moment she didn't seem to need it. She blocked or deflected every punch and kick Ron threw at her. And he really was trying to hit her. Not hard, mind. Just enough to let them both know he'd gotten through her defenses. 'If I _can _get through them,' Ron muttered to himself. As the minutes ticked by Ron felt himself becoming desperate. 'You _have_ to land at least one blow,' he told himself after fifteen futile minutes. 'Even Monkey Fist wasn't this good.' Ron toyed with the idea of calling on the mystical monkey power, but decided against it. 'That would be cheating,' he thought. 'Besides, you haven't tried all of your moves yet.' Sweat was beading on Ron's brow and the warm glow of a hard workout was spreading through his body. Canary was sweating as well, though not as much. Ron threw a punch at her head. As Canary spun away from the blow, her gi opened slightly. Ron caught a glimpse of the upper curve of a breast, and the dark fabric of the sports bra she was wearing. An idea popped into Ron's head, and it wasn't even a sexual one. One of the Marines he occasional sparred with at Twentynine Palms had a move she called The Brassiere. Why she'd given it that name, Ron didn't know. He did know that the move was a variation on one of the rarer Tae-Kwon-Do combinations, with a healthy dose of Savate thrown in to give it a unique and hopefully unexpected twist. Ron was unable to suppress a grin. Canary grinned back. Ron chose to assume that she'd let her guard down slightly, and launched The Brassiere. The next thing he knew he was flying through the air to land with a heavy thud on the padded floor. He lay there for a moment, trying to blink away the stars that swirled in his field of vision.

"I told you she was good," a male voice chuckled. Ron turned his head to see Green Arrow, whose bow and quiver were absent for the moment, push away from the wall he'd been leaning against and stroll over to offer him a hand up.

Ron took the hand. "Thanks," he murmured as he was pulled to his feet. Turning to Canary he said, "How did you block that? I was sure it would get through."

Canary favored him with a dimpled smile. "I've seen the basic move before," she explained. "That was a neat little twist you gave it," she added. Her expression became apologetic. "I have really fast reflexes, though." Ron just grinned.

"No big," he declaimed. "What was that throw you used? My whole left arm is numb," he added, shaking the limb in question. It was as if it had gone to sleep instantly, though life was returning to it. Canary's smile broadened. "Nothing fancy, just a standard throw with a little twist of my own. Want me to show you?"

"Sure!" Ron exclaimed enthusiastically. Canary gestured for him to come to her, but before he could the intercom crackled.

"Ron Stoppable, report to Briefing Room Six, please. Repeat, Ron Stoppable to Briefing Room Six." Ron didn't recognize the voice, but Canary and Arrow apparently did.

"Looks like I'll have to give you a rain check," Canary said.

"I'll take you up on that," Ron grinned. "Thanks for the workout." He turned and headed for the door.

"Anytime," Canary called after him.

Ron walked into Briefing Room Six and nearly tripped over his own feet. Kim was there, which he had expected, but Wade was also there, which threw him for a loop.

"Wade?" Ron asked incredulously.

"Hey Ron," Wade acknowledged with a nonchalant wave. Ron blinked, then shook himself. "Holographic simulation, right?" he asked, winking at Kim. Wade just grinned, then raised his hand and slapped the top of the table that dominated the center of the room. Ron started at the sound.

"Nope," Wade said, shaking his head, "I'm really here."

"Y - yo - you - you left your room," Ron stammered.

"Had to sometime," Wade shrugged. "Besides, who in their right mind would turn down an invitation to the Watchtower?"

Ron blinked a few more times, then slowly took a seat. The table, he noticed, was strewn with documents and folders, as well as the odd computer disk. As Ron settled into his chair Kim leaned over and whispered in his ear, loud enough for Wade to hear, "Actually, I think it had more to do with meeting Wonder Woman in the flesh than anything else."

Ron blinked again as Wade's face darkened. Ron knew that since Wade had started to take an interest in girls he'd developed something of a crush on the Amazon warrior.

"Score one for the primal urges," Ron murmured. Wade's blush intensified.

"Aww! Come on guys, don't..." he started to protest, but Kim cut him off.

"So you think she's hot? So what?" Kim asked. "That's how things are supposed to work after all, so it's nothing to be ashamed of."

Wade squirmed in his chair. "Can we change the subject, please?" he demanded in a plaintive voice.

"If you insist," Kim said, demurely lowering her eyes. Her voice and expression turned serious. "What have you got for us?"

With obvious relief Wade slid folders to Ron and Kim. "Four more thefts in the last three days, three confirmed and one probable," he said.

Ron quirked an eyebrow at Wade. "How do you have a 'probable' robbery?" Ron asked skeptically.

Wade just shrugged and spread his hands.

Kim opened her folder and flipped through the pages inside. "Aviarius hits the Guggenheim in New York and steals six paintings that used to belong to Monkey Fist. In Las Vegas a man playing in a high stakes poker game uses a gold bracelet with the same pedigree to call his opponent's bet, only to find out later that he was up against Rebecca 'Hazard' Sharpe, who uses her ability to alter probability to cheat at games of chance, among other things. Duff Killigan breaks into the British Golf Museum (no surprise there) in St. Andrews, Scotland, and steals a set of clubs that once belonged to Bobby Jones (whoever he was, famous golfer I'd assume) and that Monkey Fiske had acquired and donated to the museum years earlier."

Kim frowned thoughtfully as she turned to the last case. None of this made any sense. Of everything that had been stolen so far, only the idol Catwoman had made off with had anything to with monkeys. The only things the rest of the stuff had in common with the statue and each other was that Monkey Fist had once possessed them. Kim looked down at the picture in her folder.

"A tablet of black basalt, ten by fourteen inches, inscribed with an as yet untranslated text in what appears to be an early form of Sanskrit." She glanced at the text that accompanied the photo. The tablet had been stolen from a museum in Berlin, Germany, where it had been protected by merely average security, since it had no real value apart from its interest to linguists. It had turned up missing during the daily inventory of items on display. Initially assuming that the tablet had simply been misplaced, a thorough search was made of the museum, without results. Subsequent investigation had come up empty handed. On top of all that, the tablet's connection to Monkey Fist was tenuous at best. It had been loaned to the museum by Monkey Fist's great-grandfather. Monkey Fist had never really 'possessed' it, even though he had been its legal owner through inheritance. All he had done was transfer ownership. As far as Wade had been able to find out, Monkey Fist had never so much as set eyes on the thing.

"It just disappeared," Kim mused aloud. "Vanished into thin air without leaving one shred of evidence as to who took it, or how they got it out of its case without disturbing the seals on the locks."

It's weird," Ron allowed, "but aside from the Monkey Fist thing, I don't see how this tablet thingy is connected to the other stuff. It isn't even worth anything."

"Money isn't the only way to measure value, Mr. Stoppable," a familiar, cold voice said. Ron, and to a lesser degree Kim and Wade, started. Ron spun his chair around and glared at Batman. "How do you sneak up on people like that?" he demanded.

"Practice," Batman replied in that same cold monotone.

"Something we can do for you, Batman?" Kim asked politely. The Dark Knight moved to the table and picked up the picture of the tablet.

"You can think about this case, and what makes it different from the others."

Kim's brow furrowed. "Well, all the other items can be sold to collectors for significant amounts of money," she offered hesitantly.

"And?"

Kim scratched her head. "The others were stolen by supervillains in high profile robberies?"

"What does that tell you?"

Kim thought for a while, then shook her head. "I'm not a detective, Batman. I can't see where you're going with this."

Batman turned the photograph so Kim could see the tablet.

"Would you have heard of this theft if the others hadn't happened first?"

"Probably not," Kim admitted diffidently.

"I'd say it's a good guess then that someone wanted to be sure you'd notice, so they staged some flashy crimes, picking what was taken to encourage you to cast a wide net instead of focusing on monkeys."

"So we noticed the theft," Ron interjected. "If that's what they wanted, why not leave any clues for us to follow?"

"Just because there aren't any obvious clues doesn't mean there aren't any clues, Mr. Stoppable," Batman said, switching his gaze to Ron and then back to Kim.

"Go to Berlin and check out that museum, Ms. Possible. You may find something the police overlooked." Kim glanced at Ron, who shrugged. The two teens stood up.

"Have it your way," Kim said. There was a communications panel in the center of the table. Batman pressed one of the buttons and said, "Who's the duty magician today?"

The voice that had called Ron earlier spoke again. "Zatanna."

"Tell her to meet Team Possible in the transporter room."

Kim threw him a questioning look. "You may find her talents useful," was all Batman said.

It was a cold, windy, rainy day in Berlin when Kim, Ron and Zatanna materialized on the front steps of the building that was their destination. As they hurried inside Ron exclaimed, "I love that thing!" Kim had to agree. The transporter left her with a warm glow, and always seemed to improve her mood, no matter what kind of funk she was in. Odd.

Inside they were met by a heavy set man with gray hair and a neatly trimmed beard and moustache.

"Hello! I am Doctor Hans Bergstahl, director of the National Language Institute. Welcome!" His English was fluent, Kim noted, and he had a distinct American accent. Bergstahl eyed them curiously, especially Zatanna, though that was probably due to her outfit, Kim reasoned. She held out her hand.

"Thank you, Herr Doctor," she said, smiling as Bergstahl took it and they shook.

"It's always a pleasure to meet super heroes," Bergstahl said. "My grandchildren are great fans of yours, Ms. Possible." Turning to Zatanna he added. "I saw your father when he performed in Stuttgart, many years ago, and though I haven't yet had the pleasure of seeing you on stage, I hope to someday soon." Zatanna smiled warmly. "Though," Bergstahl added, "I have to admit that I'm a bit puzzled as to why our missing tablet should draw the attention of the Justice League."

"We think what happened here is connected to a series of other thefts," Kim explained, "but we aren't sure. We'd like to take a look around, if you don't mind."

"Of course," Bergstahl nodded. "Please, follow me." As Bergstahl led them deeper into the building, it became apparent to Kim that the Institute wasn't a museum in the usual sense of the word. It was much more a library that happened to have a few items on display, all of which were related to writing and language.

"We study languages from all over the world," Bergstahl told them, "both ancient and modern. Non-linguists tend to find our work dry and uninteresting, but it is really quite fascinating." Kim nodded politely but said nothing. A number of people passed the in the halls, but few of them did more than give the group a curious look. Bergstahl led them through an atrium, down a hallway, then hung a left into a wide room with permanent bookshelves and display cases lining its walls. A number of tables occupied the middle of the room.

"One of our reading rooms," Bergstahl explained, leading them to one of the display cases. It was like the others in the room. It went from the floor to the ceiling. The bottom three feet or so was closed off by a wooden panel. The rest was fronted by a glass door that was hinged on the inside, but opened out, and was secured by two locks. The case held a number of tablets of various sizes, some of stone, some of clay, and a few that could have been twins of the one that was missing. The stand it had occupied was still in the case, sitting on the bottom shelf. Examining the case, Kim noted that the key holes of the locks were covered with stick-on seals.

"May I?" she asked, pointing at a seal. Bergstahl nodded. Kim tried to peel the seal off intact, and found that impossible to manage. The glue was strong and the paper was weak. The seal tore immediately.

"How is it that these cases aren't wired, and there are no cameras in the room?" Kim asked pointedly. Bergstahl looked down, then raised his eyes to Kim's.

"Nothing we have here is worth that kind of expense," he said. "Oh, some of our more unique pieces might fetch a few hundred Euros, but to be frank, what security there is was put in to prevent excessive handling, not theft." Kim gave him a perplexed look, and he added, "We had a few incidents of rough handling, where irreplaceable objects were damaged by people who had no business picking them up in the first place."

As Kim and Bergstahl conversed Ron studied the room. It was clearly old. Everything in it said so, from the dark patina on the wood paneling, to the intricate pattern embossed in the plaster of the ceiling, to the floor itself and the tables and chairs. There were no windows, and only one door. Modern fixtures, designed to look like antiques, threw out plenty of bright light. As a result there were very few shadows. And yet, something about the place bothered him. What it was, he couldn't say. But the hair on the back of his neck was standing up.

Meanwhile, Zatanna had taken a turn around the room herself, looking at the other cases. Then she edged past Kim and Doctor Bergstahl and stooped to examine the case that had held the missing tablet. After a few moments she spoke.

"Doctor, how old is this building?"

"It was built in the eighteen nineties," Bergstahl provided.

"And has your Institute been the only tenant in that time?"

"Yes."

Zatanna looked up at Kim and Bergstahl. "I think institutional memory loss is our culprit here."

"What?" Bergstahl asked, frowning in confusion. Zatanna nodded her head. "See that photograph over there?" Kim followed the magician's eyes to a frame that hung at the junction of two book cases.

"What about it?" Kim asked.

"Look at the display cases," Zatanna prompted. Kim's eyes narrowed, then widened. In the photo, the cases had shelves all the way to the floor! Seeing Kim's reaction Zatanna said, "That picture is dated 1895. Now look at the one to the left of it." Kim did so. In that photo the lower shelves had been covered. "That one's dated 1903," Zatanna supplied. "Which means no one working here these days remembers this!" With a flourish Zatanna took hold of the piece of trim that ran along the top edge of the panel and lifted. The whole panel slid up and out of the rails that were the only things holding it in place, as a stunned Doctor Bergstahl looked on. Kim stared in amazement. The compartment was dusty, but the old shelves were still there!

"Mein Gott!" Bergstahl croaked.

Zatanna took hold of the second shelf, which, Kim noted, had fresh fingerprints in the dust that covered it, and pulled. The shelf slid out easily. Zatanna took a quick look and smiled grimly. "No back rail, only side rails," she said, apparently to herself. She reached in with both hands. Kim watched as the 'bottom' shelf of the case raised up, tilted slightly then sank from view, only to reappear a moment later as Zatanna drew it out from the opening where the panel had been. Turning slowly the raven haired magician stood up, holding the shelf out to a white faced Bergstahl.

"Ta da!" Zatanna smirked. "This is how the thief got the tablet out." She set the shelf on one of the tables.

"Unglaublich! Es ist fantastiche!" Bergstahl mumbled.

"Are all the panels like that?" Kim asked.

"Yep," Zatanna confirmed.

"They look so solid, though," Kim said, eyeing the other cases. Zatanna smiled. "Hidden panels are a stage magician's best friends, Kim. Work with them long enough and you develop a knack for noticing them."

Kim smiled and chuckled. "Batman was right, your talents _were _useful." Zatanna laughed as well.

Ron had observed the whole affair with great interest. Now he approached the shelf, his eyes fixed on the stand that had held the tablet. He shuddered.

"Ohhh!"

"Ron, are you all right?" Kim asked, noticing the odd expression on Ron's face. Ron gave her a serious look. "Kim, I've been on edge ever since we came into this room, and that thing," his eyes flicked to the stand, "is a major creepfest!"

Kim stared at him, then picked up the stand and turned it over in her hands. It was nothing more than a few dowels, drilled and glued together. It was light, sturdy, and utterly ordinary looking. Kim started to say something to that effect when she noticed the look on Zatanna's face.

"Batman and his hunches," Zatanna muttered. She waved her hands. "Stand back everyone." When the others had complied Zatanna made an odd gesture with her fingers.

"Elbisiv emoceb cigam laudiser!"

Three gasps filled Zatanna's ears as the room blazed with reddish light. The stand blazed like it was on fire. Streamers of red-gold energy stretched away from the stand in a dozen different directions, and the interior of the display case shimmered with the same colors.

"Damn," Zatanna swore softly. She passed a hand through one of the streamers. It rippled slightly. Kim cautiously tried the same thing. Nothing happened. There was no sensation of any kind, and even though there seemed to be a current in the ribbon of light, it passed through her hand like it didn't exist.

"Was ist los?" Bergstahl said faintly.

"Your tablet is a magical artifact, Doctor," Zatanna said levelly. "It's a focus for negative energy, and strong enough that it's tainted everything around it." She glanced at the stand. "How long was it sitting on that stand?"

"Ich weisse nichts," then, remembering his manners. "I don't know. Eighty years or so."

Zatanna nodded. "Long enough to turn the stand into a weaker version of itself."

Ron had retreated to the farthest corner of the room and was cowering on the floor. Kim sympathized. The weird light emanating from the stand frightened her in a way she'd never thought was possible.

"Zatanna, when you say 'negative energy'..." Kim began.

"...I mean 'evil'," Zatanna finished. On the left breast of her tuxedo jacket Zatanna wore a brooch that also served as her JL communicator. She touched it. "Watchtower, this is Zatanna."

"Go ahead."

"Contact Doctor Fate. I need him at this location as soon as possible."


	10. Trap and Distraction

Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by the Disney Corporation. Supergirl and all related characters and indicia are owned by DC Comics/Warner Bros. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.

The home of Felix Faust

Monkey Fist parried the cut aimed at his head and counter-attacked, bringing his staff down on his opponent's wrist hard enough to cause the black-clad warrior to drop his sword. The blade clattered to the wooden floor of the ballroom, even as the warrior dodged backward to avoid an attempted leg sweep. The warrior kept backing away as Fist advanced, keeping out of reach of Fist's staff while searching for a new weapon. He found one in the form of a pair of nunchaku that had been lying on a table along one wall. Monkey Fist continued his advance, but more cautiously. The warrior was a canny opponent, skilled and quick, who rarely made mistakes. He had now, though, Fist noted, unable to keep from smiling. The warrior whirled the nunchaku around theatrically in an effort to demonstrate his prowess with them. All he succeeded in doing was telling Monkey Fist that nunchaku weren't the warrior's best weapon.

Fist lunged forward, aiming a deliberately clumsy thrust at the warrior's head. As he hoped, the warrior tried to snag Fist's staff with the nunchaku as a first step toward yanking the staff out of Fist's hands. Fist let him succeed with the snagging, then jerked back on the staff. The nunchaku came out of the warrior's hands as he was pulled off balance. The end of the staff came up, slamming into the warrior's crotch. The warrior made no sound, just doubled over, clutching at his groin. Fist swung his staff around and brought it down again in a killing blow on the warrior's neck. The warrior collapsed to the floor in a heap, then dissolved into a puddle of inky liquid that sank into the lacquered wood like it was dry sand.

A slow, measured clap echoed in the spacious ballroom. Fist, who had been leaning on his staff, breathing heavily, looked up. Felix Faust was standing in the doorway. "Most impressive, Lord Fiske. You've come a long way in the last two weeks."

Monkey Fist bowed politely to his host. "Thanks in no small part to you, Mr. Faust, and these wonderful creations of yours. I've never had better sparring partners." Faust responded with a small smile. DNAmy, who had also been watching the exercise, was more ebullient in her praise. "Honey Bunny, you were amazing! That was the most incredible fight I've ever seen!" She rushed forward and threw her chubby arms around Fist, hugging him enthusiastically. Fist smiled at her and patted her on the back with one hand. He could understand her excitement: her knowledge of martial arts came solely from cheesy kung-fu movies on late night TV. For his part, Fist was pleased with his progress. He had fought the opponent he'd just bested five times in the last three days, once each morning and again each evening. The first time had been difficult, to say the least. The second time had been a bit easier, and each subsequent meeting had been less challenging. This, their sixth meeting hadn't been more than moderately difficult. It was time to take things to the next level.

"Thank you, my dear," Fist said. To Faust he added. "If you don't mind, my gracious host, I'd like to go again, and raise the bar a little."

Faust nodded. "As you wish, Lord Fiske." Faust waited for DNAmy to get clear, then passed his hand over a small statuette he was holding, twice. Black liquid erupted from the floor in two places, solidifying into two warriors almost identical to the one Fist had just dispatched. He stepped back, brandishing his staff. The warriors moved toward him while moving away from each other. One was armed with a pair of kama, short sickle-like axes, while the other wielded two tonfa, basically a policeman's truncheon. Fist bared his teeth in a predatory grin. This was going to be interesting.

* * *

Fist paused in his eating and grunted in pain as Bates' thick fingers worked at a knot in the muscles of Fist's lower back. Fist was lying on a massage table beside Felix Faust's indoor swimming pool, recuperating from his earlier exertions. 

"That was a little foolish of me," he commented to no one in particular. Not taking on two opponents at once. That had presented no difficulties. Or at least it shouldn't have. The problem was jumping right into another bout without taking time to rest. He'd used up a lot of energy in the first fight and had had found himself running out of steam before he'd dispatched even one of his pair of adversaries.

Fist sighed at looked down at the bowl of rice and beef he was holding. It was half empty, and needed to be all the way empty if he was going to keep up his strength. That was one of the unexpected consequences of his new body. It might have had more potential than his old one, but it needed lots of energy. That fact, coupled with the demands of two-a-day workouts and sparring, made for an almost insatiable appetite. Which was too bad. Fist had always enjoyed eating, going so far as to consider himself a sort of Epicurean. Now, thanks to his need to eat six, seven, and sometimes even eight meals a day, eating itself had become a chore, stripped of any pleasure. Fist sighed again, dug his spoon into the bowl, and resumed his shoveling.

Middleton

Wade tapped the eraser of his pencil against his forehead while he considered the last problem of his math homework. While most kids in his age group were struggling with the multiplication and division of fractions, Wade was taking a college level calculus course, among others. Wade glanced around his room. He'd spent most of his life surrounded by its four walls. That was the trouble with being a genius. Truly exceptional intelligence always came with a price. In Wade's case his IQ, which most tests couldn't even measure, and which his psychiatrist had estimated at 175, was bought and paid for with severe agoraphobia. It had manifested itself early on, so early that Wade had attended pre-school for exactly seventeen minutes, the total extent of his public schooling. No amount of therapy had been able to overcome the crippling disorder, so Wade had been home schooled, by his mother until he was eight, then by tutors, and finally over the internet when he'd begun taking college courses. His only friends, beyond those he'd met in therapy play groups, were Jim and Tim Possible, whose back yard abutted his own. In the early days they had romped for hours in the vast wilderness of their yards, playing hide and seek among the trees and bushes, exploring the no-man's-land that ran down the center of the block, and generally doing all the things that three and four year olds do. Then the phobia had hit. Even going out in his own back yard had been more than Wade could bear. Jim and Tim had adapted quickly though. The play had simply moved indoors, where it continued unabated. When Jim and Tim's big sister Kim had needed help setting up and running her website and someone to build her gadgets, Jim and Tim had introduced her to Wade and the rest, as they say, was history.

Wade shook his head. 'Enough woolgathering,' he told himself. 'This problem won't answer itself.' But he couldn't really concentrate. Since puberty had hit his phobia had weakened considerably, and his therapist had high hopes that it would fade entirely. That would be nice. It was fun to be able to go outside without panicking. Visiting the Watchtower had been cool, but to be honest, going to the Middleton Youth Center and mingling with his contemporaries was more fun. Especially his female contemporaries. True, most of them were just eye candy. Much as he tried, the differences in education, interest and intelligence made it hard for Wade to talk to most girls his own age. College women were easier to relate to on an intellectual level, but on the downside there was an unbridgeable social gap between him and them.

Wade smiled as a thought bubbled to the surface of his mind. His mother, overjoyed that he could now leave the house and looking to boost his social skills, had enrolled him in a group called The Misfit Geniuses. The name was pretentious, but it fit. It was basically a club for the intellectually gifted but socially awkward, organized by age range. There were twenty-one kids in Wade's bracket, including nine girls, one of whom was the exceptionally intelligent, amazingly attractive (for a thirteen-year-old) Wendy Wilson. They'd had hit it off immediately, and just three weeks later had gone on a date. True, it had only been a movie, with Wendy's mother chaperoning, but it was still a date. Better still, he and Wendy had another date coming up on Friday. Wade looked at the calendar. Two days away. No doubt time would crawl until then. 'Oh well,' Wade thought resignedly. 'Better finish up the math homework then get started on that electro-optics paper and.." He was interrupted by a chirping sound and the whir of the fax machine starting up. Spinning his chair around, Wade waited until the machine finished printing, than snatched the paper and scanned it.

"Team Possible. Centurion Imports warehouse, Pier F, Long Beach. Midnight tonight." Below the words was a jumble of pictures, apparently lifted from a newspaper, of various pieces of art. Wade didn't recognize any of them as part of Monkey Fist's old collection, but it was possible he'd overlooked them, or that they were some of the objects that he hadn't been able to find photographs of. There was a caption with the photographs, in what looked like an east Asian language. Thoughts of homework and dates vanished from Wade's mind as he turned toward his keyboards and went to work.

Metropolis

The City Room of the Daily Planet was never deserted. The evening staff, as well as the graveyard shift that followed them, was considerably smaller than the daytime crew, and so sometimes gave that impression, but there was always someone here. Of course, 'someone' didn't usually include Lois Lane. The brunette reporter had only just gotten in, having spent the last three days in New York working on her latest story, and was at her desk trying to catch up on her messages and mail before heading home. It was tedious work. There were scores of voice-mails, hundreds of e-mails, and dozens of letters. Most were routine, being either tips from sources, or answers to requests for information and/or interviews. There was the usual handful of bizarre messages from cranks of one sort or another, along with a couple of threats. Lois sighed. It was too bad one of her voice mails had been from her fiancée.

"Lois," it had begun simply, "It's Clark. I had to go out of town to follow up on a lead. I should be back tomorrow morning at the latest. See you then. Love you, bye."

That was Clark-speak for 'I'm on a mission with the Justice League'. Lois smiled in spite of herself. The first time she'd met Clark Kent she'd figured him for a hayseed from the prairie, certainly no match for a hard charging woman from the big city. He'd proven her wrong though, and with patient determination had managed to turn her disdain to respect, then affection and finally, love. A proposal of marriage had followed soon after, and had been eagerly accepted. That in turn had led to Clark revealing that he was also Superman, since he wanted to have no secrets from Lois. She'd been furious at first; partly at him for keeping the secret in the first place, but mostly at herself for not figuring it out on her own. She'd forgiven him, of course, but still...

On a lark Lois picked up her phone and hit the speed dial for Clark's apartment. It was possible he was back already. That would be nice. Clark was no masseuse, but he gave excellent back rubs. The phone rang three times, then a familiar female voice came on the line.

"Clark Kent's apartment, Kara Kent speaking."

"Hello, Kara. Lois here. I was hoping Clark was back, but not yet, huh?"

"Oh hi, Lois! No, not yet. It's still looking like tomorrow morning." Lois didn't bother to ask how Kara knew that. Or rather, she didn't risk asking. There was always the possibility that one or more of their phones were tapped, so there were some topics of conversation that were off limits. Like the fact that Kara Kent, ostensibly Clark Kent's cousin, was actually Kara In-ze, AKA Supergirl. Or that Kara could check on Clark's whereabouts through the Justice League.

"Do me a favor then, and tell him I called, and to call me as soon as he gets back, would you?"

"Sure thing, Lois."

The two women exchanged good-byes and Lois hung up.

Kara. That had been another blow to Lois' ego. Not long after Clark had let her in on the secret of his dual identity, he'd had another 'out of town matter' come up. Lois, looking to ease her worries for his safety, had gone to Clark's apartment to see him off. To her surprise, Clark's cousin from Kansas had been there as well, sitting on the couch watching television.

"You brought her all the way from Smallville to apartment sit for you for three days?" Lois had asked, a touch mockingly. Before Clark could answer Kara had turned with a sly smile and said, "No, Lois, I brought myself from Smallville to 'keep an eye on things' while a certain big blue Boy Scout is out of town." Lois had stared blankly for a few seconds. Then Clark had given her a look that said 'Think about it,' and Lois had smacked herself in the forehead in chagrin.

Sitting at her desk in the City Room Lois chuckled wryly. "Trained observer my ass," she murmured to herself. A soft tone drew her attention. The email icon on her computer was blinking. Not much of a surprise. New e-mails arrived constantly, it seemed. Lois peered at her screen. The subject line read 'Goose Island Dockyard'. Interesting. A navy repair yard during the Second World War, Goose Island had been closed after Korea and sold off to the private sector. In the subsequent decades Goose Island had fallen on hard times, as the domestic U.S. shipbuilding and repair business shrank. Now-a-days Goose Island was mostly deserted, making it an ideal area for Metropolis' criminal element to do business in. Even so, as she opened the message Lois prepared herself for yet another screed from yet another crackpot/conspiracy theorist.

When the message came up Lois blinked. Far from being long and rambling, it was so short and succinct that Lois found herself giving it immediate credibility on that basis alone.

"What: Shipment of stolen Russian military equipment, including heavy weapons," Lois breathed aloud. "Where: Goose Island, 'within sight of Tanner's Wharf'." Lois bit her lip. Tanner's Wharf was one of Metropolis' more successful downtown renewal projects, having been converted from serving the local fishing industry to an upscale shopping and dining area. Unfortunately, half of Goose Island was within sight of Tanner's Wharf. "When: Tonight between eleven p.m. and one a.m. Who: Skull: Metropolis, USA and Hanover, Germany factions." The piece was signed 'A friend' which Lois ignored - aside from the fact that it wasn't very imaginative, experience had shown that it usually wasn't true, either. Mostly, such tips came from rival criminal organizations looking to eliminate their competition. Oh well. A hot tip was a hot tip.

Lois glanced at the clock. It was already after ten. "So much for my plan for a nice dinner, a hot shower and bed," she chuckled. She picked up her phone again and dialed an internal number. The phone rang twice. When it was answered Lois said, "Mike? Lois Lane here. I got a hot tip I'm going to check on. Have one of your photographers meet me in the lobby in five minutes, okay?" Pause. "Great, thanks." Quickly stuffing her notebook in her purse Lois stood up and turned away from her desk. Then she stopped. Turning back, she picked up the phone again with one hand while starting the process of forwarding the e-mail with the other.

"Kara, it's me again. I just got an e-mail I think Clark would be interested in. Do me a favor and open it up, and make sure he sees it, would you? Thanks."

* * *

Kara put down the phone and made a bee-line for Clark's home computer. 

"So, Skull," Kara mused as she leaned over the monitor. She knew very little about that group. The files Clark kept about them were sparse as well. 'Basically an Intergang with global reach. Well, as long as they don't have any metahumans with them, they shouldn't be too much trouble.' Kara straightened up and began unbuttoning her blouse. 'First night in town and I'm already getting some action. Cool!'

Long Beach

"South Pico Avenue, this exit," Kim read, and guided the Team Possible van off of Interstate 710 onto the long off-ramp that led to the street in question.

"How much farther?" Ron asked from the back of the van. He was busy giving their equipment a final check, in preparation for the night's activities. Kim glanced in the rear view mirror. Like her, Ron was dressed head to toe in black. All that remained was for them to blacken their faces, something they'd take care of after they parked.

"About half a mile," Kim told him.

Ron nodded once, then asked the same question he always did before an operation these days. "Guns?"

Kim shook her head. "This is a reconnaissance, not an assault. Non-lethals only."

Kim turned right off Pico Avenue onto Harbor Place, then right again onto Pier F Avenue. The street dead ended in a cul-de-sac that was partly screened from view by railroad sidings jammed with freight cars on either side of it.

"Looks like a great make-out spot," Ron joked as Kim parked the van. Kim grinned. He was probably right. Despite being surrounded by activity, it was a rather lonely place. Which made it perfect for their purposes. After carefully applying her face paint, Kim got out. She put on the vest and belt Ron held out to her, then checked the contents: sting balls, flash/bangs, riot gas grenades (a true gas, one that induced vomiting and mild hallucinations, not the fine powder that was tear 'gas'), smoke grenades, truncheon, grapple gun and taser gun. A glance at Ron showed that he was similarly equipped, though he also carried a collapsible, spring-loaded baton that could extend into a four foot staff. Kim affected not to notice the Marine combat knife at his hip, or the 9mm pistol she knew was tucked away at the small of his back. 

"Helmet?" she asked. Ron held it out to her. The helmet was Wade's latest version, fitted not only with retractable low-light and infrared vision systems and built in secure radios, but also a sound amplification and filtering system that would, hopefully, screen out background noise while making it easier to hear movement and conversation. Hopefully. Strapping the helmet on Kim jerked her head toward their goal. "Shall we?"

Ron nodded again. "We shall," he said softly.


	11. The Atomic Skull

Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by the Disney Corporation. Supergirl and all related characters and indicia are owned by DC Comics/Warner Bros. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.

Metropolis

Kara floated a thousand feet above Goose Island. The night was clear, with a bright crescent moon providing decent illumination. Her altitude gave her a good prospect of the entire area and, she hoped, would prevent her from being spotted. Kara's eyes ranged from one end of the island to the other, searching for any sign of illegal activity. So far there wasn't any. At least, there wasn't anything obvious. Scattered among the abandoned slipways, dry docks, warehouses and machine shops, were a handful of still functioning legitimate businesses. One yard in particular was a beehive of activity, as bright lights drove back the dark and revealed men and women working on a number of small ships that were either moored alongside the yard's docks or that had been hauled ashore by one of the massive mobile cranes that towered over the place.

Kara spotted Lois Lane strolling along the waterfront, a young man in tow. Somewhat to Kara's surprise, said young man wasn't Jimmy Olsen. This one was blond, and a bit older than Jimmy. Kara didn't recognize him. She then turned her gaze out to sea. Despite the late hour, there were a number of boats and ships plying the waters just off-shore. A couple of big, ocean going freighters were coming in, but they were angling south toward the Port of Metropolis and it's deeply dredged harbor. An even larger, high riding (and so, obviously empty) supertanker was standing out to sea. Sailboats and yachts of various sizes mingled with fishing boats and small coastal cargo ships. Kara's eyes narrowed suddenly. One of those cargo ships was heading for Goose Island. Was this it? There were a number of men on deck, busily preparing the ship for docking while a man Kara assumed was an officer looked on. The crew were a motley bunch, dressed in worn and dirty work clothes. The ship was rusty and battered looking, but that in itself was proof of nothing. Certainly there were no indications that this was anything other than a perfectly innocent freighter going about honest business. But Kara had a feeling. After a quick debate with her conscience Kara used her x-ray vision to look below decks, especially at the holds. Sure enough she saw men dressed in the yellow and green uniforms of the crime cartel called Skull. Crates in the holds bulged with weapons.

"Looks like that tip was right," she murmured, continuing her examination. One odd thing was that, in addition to soldiers and officers, a number of Skull scientists were aboard as well, if the insignia on their uniforms was any indication. The other thing that got Kara's attention was that one of the crates was completely opaque to her x-ray vision. Even a lead lining would have to be a couple of inches thick to manage that. Given the crate's dimensions just the lead alone would weigh more than eight tons. The ease with which the Skull personnel were moving it suggested it weighed far less than that.

"Probably a force field of some sort," Kara reasoned. She shrugged to herself. "Oh well, I'll find out what's in it soon enough, I'm sure." She had already decided to wait until the cargo was put ashore to intervene.

* * *

Lois watched intently as the ship approached the docks. It was a couple of hundred feet long. White letters on the bow spelled out the name _Marlene_.

"Hopefully we'll get a look at her stern, find out where her home port is," Lois whispered to her companion. His name was Eddie Jackson, a good kid and a decent shutterbug, too.

"You want me to try and get a look, Ms. Lane?" he asked, jerking his chin toward a nearby pier.

"No," she answered, shaking her head. "Time enough for that later. Get a couple of shots of the ship coming in, though." It wasn't really necessary to say so, Lois noted with approval. Before she had even finished speaking Eddie had his camera up and had snapped a couple of pictures. With the lens still pointing at the ship Eddie turned slightly and said, "Tugboat coming in." Sure enough, a second, smaller boat was emerging from the darkness. With the tug's help the freighter was soon made fast against the dock. Lois eyed the cargo crane that loomed above the ship. Apparently Skull weren't going to use it, for whatever reason. Instead, gangways were run out, and a score of men emerged from a nearby warehouse. Some of the men went aboard the ship and startled passing crates and boxes up out of the holds, while others brought trucks up and began loading the cargo onto them. That was when Supergirl decided to make her entrance. As Lois watched, Kara swooped down into the middle of the operation.

* * *

"Party's over, gentlemen," Kara proclaimed smugly. A few Skull soldiers brought weapons up to cover her, but a gesture from a man wearing a Commandant's insignia (which, Kara realized, made him a member of the highest rank of Skull that normally led field operations) stopped them.

"Supergirl, we've been expecting you," he said with a coldly pleasant smile.

Kara blinked. "You've been expecting me?" she repeated, somewhat incredulously. "Not Superman?" The commandant shook his head in confirmation.

"That's right, my dear. Our employer was quite sure you would be the one showing up today."

Kara's surprise must have shown on her face, for the commandant went on, "Normally, of course, Skull doesn't stoop to the role of errand boy, but the reward we were offered for this job led our council to make an exception in this case." Glancing back over his shoulder the commandant spoke to the eight men who had been carrying the opaque crate. They were large fellows, Kara noted, which suggested the four by four by eight foot crate was fairly heavy, even if it wasn't lined with lead. The men lowered the crate to the ground. From the far end of it Kara noticed a rising column of warm air, and heard the faint hum of a power cell. One of the men touched a switch on the side of the crate. Even as the crate began to open up, it became all but transparent to Kara's x-ray vision. Within it she could see the figure of a man in some kind of armor, lying on a metal framework, surrounded by gadgets whose functions weren't immediately obvious. The framework began to tilt up and forward, raising the man inside to a standing position. He was clad neck to toe in a metallic suit of green and yellow. Only his head was bare, and it... It was a bare skull, wreathed in blue flame. Clamps that had held the man to the frame opened with loud clacks, and he took a step towards Kara.

"Supergirl," the commandant said, "Allow me to present our latest creation...the Atomic Skull!"

The armor the freak facing her was wearing must have been a containment suit. Apparently, whoever the poor bastard was, the skull was really his own. Kara couldn't see a single hint of flesh around the bone, save for two rings floating in the eye sockets, his irises perhaps, glowing with a baleful red light.

"Skull," the commandant suggested, "Say something charming to the lady."

The Atomic Skull placed his armored fingertips to his temples and cocked his head at Kara. His lower jaw moved. How he managed to speak without lips or tongue Kara couldn't guess, but the dry croak that emerged through those ivory teeth certainly sounded like the voice of a dead thing. "Time to die."

There was a blue flash.

Four miles and seven seconds later Kara slammed into the one hundred and sixteenth floor of the Lexcorp Tower. She punched halfway through the building, stopping only when she hit the reinforced concrete wall surrounding the tower's central elevator shaft. She lay there, stunned, as pulverized cement dust swirled around her.

"S-Supergirl?" An anxious looking man with a black beard was bending over her. "Are you all right?" he asked. His voice was strangely muffled. Kara groaned and struggled to rise. A half-dozen hands were suddenly there, helping her to her feet.

"I'm fine, thanks," she assured the gathering crowd of gawkers, "Just had my bell rung a little." She peered toward Goose Island. The Atomic Skull was clutching at his head with both hands. Whatever he had done to her seemed to have affected him as well. Kara's weight shifted slightly, as she prepared to fly off. One of the onlookers interrupted.

"Supergirl, your nose!" Kara drew the back of her hand across her upper lip. It came away streaked with blood. "Damn," she swore softly. "I'm fine," she repeated forcefully. She dove forward and was gone.

* * *

Lois wished the ringing in her head would stop. The blast the Atomic Skull had unleashed had not only sent Supergirl flying, it had shattered windows for hundreds of yards in every direction. Skull soldiers that had been too close to the discharge lay writhing on the ground, or worse yet, totally still, the awkward positions of their limbs suggesting that they would never get up again.

"Where's Supergirl?" Lois demanded of Eddie, having to shout to hear her own voice. Eddie looked toward the downtown. After a few moments he cried out, "There she is!"

Lois followed Eddie's finger. Kara was coming in fast, pushing Mach, her right hand balled into a fist and pulled back to launch a vicious haymaker. From the scowl on Kara's face Lois guessed she wasn't planning on pulling her punch.

"Get down, Eddie!" Lois commanded as she dropped behind the meager shelter of a concrete barrier. At least this time she would have her mouth open when the concussion hit.

The Atomic Skull realized Kara was coming in just too late to do anything about it. The slender blonde's fist slammed into his chest plate and sent him flying, even as the impact generated a pressure wave that finished off the few window's in the area that had survived the Skull's blast. The Skull hit the _Marlene _amidships, passing completely through the hull to bounce across the water like a skipping stone, before sinking out of sight in a bed of reeds.

Kara heard the sound of rushing water. A glance showed that the _Marlene_'s back had been broken. She was settling quickly. Fortunately the water was shallow. Still, Kara was thinking about going aboard to rescue the crew when the water beyond the ship erupted in a column of mud and steam. Hot salt water rained down as an enraged bellow echoed across the waves. Within the pillar of steam Kara could see the Atomic Skull gather his legs beneath him and leap towards the docks, straight at her. The battle began in earnest.

* * *

Lois and Eddie ran for their lives, along with every other sane person in the area. Behind them, Supergirl and the Atomic Skull were destroying Goose Island in their respective efforts to defeat each other. The battle had already lasted fifteen minutes, which was astonishing given Kara's power level. What that said about the Atomic Skull was terrifying. He didn't seem to be as physically strong as Kara, but he was tough. So far he'd shaken off everything she'd thrown at him, from fists to the jaw to being hit with one of the huge, heavy cranes that dotted the area. The blue fire that surrounded the Skull's body blazed brighter and brighter with every blast he unleashed, and each succeeding blast was more powerful than the one before. Buildings for blocks in all directions were down, pulverized.

Kara staggered as a fresh blast hit her. Just what the blast was, she didn't know. Given the way the Skull touched his head every time he unleashed one, it was probably psychic or something like that, but that was the least of Kara's worries. She was battered and bruised, her nose still bleeding and one of her eyes starting to swell shut. She was also getting tired, something that hadn't happened since she'd fought Darkseid. The Atomic Skull, on the other hand, only seemed to get stronger. In desperation Kara unleashed a kick that snapped the Skulls head back, following that with the most powerful punch she could dredge up. It actually seemed to stun him, and as he stood there dazed, Kara hammered his shoulders so hard that she drove him chest deep into the ground.

It didn't stop him. Blue flame exploded into a blazing pillar as the Skull propelled himself up with one of his blasts. As he hurtled through the air the Skull dropped his gloves, like a hockey player getting ready for a fight. Bony fingers sheathed in blue flame reached out for her. Kara was so shocked she didn't move in time. The Skull hit her, tumbling both end over end, as his fingers closed around her throat. They came to a stop with her on her back, the Skull lying atop her.

"That hurt, you worthless little bitch!" the Skull shrieked at her, squeezing her windpipe.

"So, you can feel pain," Kara snarled back, bringing a knee up between the Skull's legs. His mouth opened in a soundless scream, and his grip loosened. Kara followed the knee with a full power blast of heat vision to his face, which loosened his grip still further. A pair of fists to the chest finished the job and sent the Skull spinning away, to slam into the concrete of the dock with a thunderous crash. Kara dragged herself to her feet as the Skull did the same. She had just started toward him again when he pulsed with blue light. A wave of incredible heat hit Kara, but it wasn't aimed specifically at her. Small pieces of flammable trash lying about burst into flame. The clothing of the Skull personnel still on the ground smoldered, and the paint on the _Marlene_'s hull began to smoke. The Atomic Skull spasmed like he was in agony.

"Supergirl." It was a barely audible whisper, but Kara followed it to the Skull commandant, who lay against one of the heavy steel wheels of the cargo crane. His clothes and flesh were scorched, and x-ray vision showed massive internal injuries.

"I'll get you to a hospital," Kara said automatically. The commandant shook his head.

"Too late for that. His powers, Supergirl. They're running wild. If he melts down he'll destroy the city. You have to stop him."

"Wish you'd thought of that before you turned him loose," Kara snapped sarcastically. Relenting she asked, "How can I stop him?"

The commandant laughed weakly. "Faust said you wouldn't last this long," he coughed. "You have to c-cool him, l-lower his...his temperature. T-that'll st-stop...stop...it..." The man's head sagged. He was gone.

"Cool him off," Kara mused, rising to her feet. An idea popped into her head. The Skull was turning to and fro, searching for her. Kara spied a propane cylinder on the deck of the _Marlene_. Heat vision lanced it. The blast drew the Skull's attention, turning him away from her. "Buckle up, Bonehead, you're going for a ride."

Kara snagged the Skull in a hammerlock and headed out to sea. As she gained altitude she accelerated. Mach six. Mach eight. Mach ten. At two miles a second Kara streaked east, counting the seconds and hoping she had enough time. The Skull's temperature was rising steadily, though fortunately he was too distracted to resist her. Finally it reached a point where Kara didn't dare wait any longer. Taking a deep breath, she dove.

Five minutes later Kara and her erstwhile foe were twelve thousand feet down, floating just above the mucky floor of the Atlantic Ocean. Kara was moving slowly, dragging the Skull through the frigid water, letting it draw away his excess heat. Hopefully this would do the job. If not, she had spotted some rocky outcrops that would make excellent burial sites.

That turned out to be unnecessary. After a half hour or so the Skull had cooled to the point where waxy flesh had appeared on his bones. In fact, he had cooled to the point where he was stiff and unmoving. Maybe he was dead. Maybe not. Kara didn't really care: she was getting cold, too, and the pressure down here was incredible.

'Well,' she directed a thought at her inert enemy. 'I guess I should take you to the Watchtower now. We'll at least be able to hold onto you there, and maybe figure out what makes you tick.' And, she added silently, maybe someone up their can tell me who 'Faust' is, and why he didn't think I'd last very long against this guy.


	12. Raising the Stakes

Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by the Disney Corporation. Supergirl and all related characters and indicia are owned by DC Comics/Warner Bros. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.

_Triaxx2: It's possible Faust was lying. He is a manipulative old man, after all._

The Centurion Imports warehouse was a quarter mile from where they'd parked the van, and Kim and Ron were able to cover almost the entire distance unseen by moving through the narrow space between two lines of rail cars. Of course that meant they weren't able to see all that much themselves, but one couldn't have everything.

Kim raised her hand to signal a halt. Ron stopped just behind her and waited while she consulted her Kimmunicator Mark II, as Wade referred to it. Unlike her regular Kimmunicator, the Mark II had a matte black finish and a special screen that shed very little extra light, and which could only be seen from directly in front. To Ron, who was standing just inches to the side as he looked over Kim's shoulder, the Mark II's screen was blank. Kim pushed a few buttons and considered the results.

"First waypoint," she whispered. "Let's go up and have a look," she added, jerking a thumb at one of the rail cars.

"I'll take the next one ahead," Ron said, edging past her.

Kim turned to her right. The car next to her was a covered hopper, for just what Kim neither knew nor cared. What mattered was that it had a ladder at each end for reaching it's roof. Kim took hold of a rung, put her foot on the lowest step, and began to climb. She paused just below the edge of the roof. Moving slowly, she raised her head until her eyes cleared it. The roof of the car was peaked, the crest running down the length of the car with a narrow walkway of expanded metal mounted just above it. Kim moved up onto the roof, almost crawling, trying to stay as close to the metal body of the car as possible. She slithered up to the walkway and looked over it, studying the target.

The warehouse was a blocky two story affair, its walls pierced occasionally by windows, some of which revealed lights beyond. The front of the warehouse, which was facing away from them, was well lit, if the light reflected by objects further away was any indication. The one side Kim could see had no lights of its own and was shrouded in shadow. The back wall was dark as well, except for a single dim bulb above a door at ground level. Kim turned her head and looked in Ron's direction. He was a vague shape in the darkness.

Kim activated her helmet radio. "Ron, Kim here, what do you think?" she asked in a hushed voice that would have been inaudible a few feet away.

"Looks deserted, K.P.," came Ron's equally hushed reply, "No sigh of...wait!" he hissed.

Kim saw it at the same time, a tiny flare of yellow light. "Front corner, looks like someone just lit a cigarette or something," Ron's voice opined. Kim activated the helmet's built in imaging system. It wasn't quite as good as binoculars would have been, at least as far as magnification was concerned, but it would do. It took her only a moment to confirm Ron's guess.

"Yep," she agreed. A thin man, perhaps in his twenties, was leaning on the corner of the building, a glowing cigarette dangling from his mouth. The man appeared to take no notice of anything. If he was a sentry, he was either very, very good, or lousy. Kim turned her gaze to the warehouse roof. Or rather the edge of said roof, the roof itself being higher than her vantage point and so out of sight. "What about the back wall," she prompted.

After a brief silence Ron said, "Looks clean. No obvious cameras or sensors."

"Which doesn't mean there aren't any," Kim rejoined sourly.

"Not at all," Ron agreed. "Risk it?" he inquired.

"Risk it," Kim said firmly.

* * *

They reached the door in the back wall of the warehouse without incident. Ron reached up to the battered fixture above the door and unscrewed the bulb until it went out. Then he and Kim flattened themselves against the wall on either side and waited, listening. 

Five minutes went by. Apparently no one inside had noticed the bulb going out, or if they had they weren't going to do anything about it. Ron felt Kim tap him on the shoulder. He looked over at her and she gestured at the door. He nodded once and stood lookout while she got to work.

From a pouch on her belt Kim produced a thin, flat probe at the end of a slender cable. She plugged the free end of the cable into the Mark II and slid the probe into the narrow gap between the door and its frame. The probe and its software were courtesy of Global Justice. Most building alarm systems monitored doors for nothing more than open or closed status, and determined one or the other with simple proximity sensors set into the frame. Such sensors were usually magnetic or, more rarely, optical. The probe was designed to detect either type without triggering them, a neat trick in Kim's opinion. A careful circuit of the door (including the bottom edge, an often overlooked area) revealed a single magnetic sensor mounted just above the latch. Kim quickly blinded the sensor with a piece of adhesive coated sheet metal. The lock itself yielded to Kim's picks in a few minutes.

"It still amazes me, every time you do that," Ron whispered as Kim put her tools away. She grinned up at him.

"All it takes, Ron, is a light touch and ears that know what to listen for," Kim smiled.

"Of which I possess neither," Ron cracked quietly. Kim smiled again, in lieu of laughing, and passed through the door into the warehouse.

"Follow me, Ron," she commanded with a jerk of her head.

* * *

Rows of pallets, crates and boxes ran parallel to the back wall, standing nearly ceiling high in places. A few lights near the front of the cavernous building were on, providing the only illumination. Kim heard male voices, but even with her helmets amplifiers and filters she couldn't make out what was being said. 

"Over there," Ron whispered. A ladder led up to a catwalk that seemed to circle the warehouse at a level where the second floor would have been. Kim nodded and headed for it. Moments later she and Ron were heading for the front of the warehouse as stealthily as they could. The catwalk creaked a bit, but there was enough noise from fans and other such devices that Kim doubted they'd be overheard. Also, the conversation was considerably more animated than she'd first realized. A dozen or so men were standing in a clear area in front of one of the warehouse's loading docks. They were standing in two groups, one larger than the other. Three of the men, who Kim took to be leaders, were in the middle having a heated discussion, about what she couldn't tell. The men alternated between Spanish, of which Kim understood only a little, and an Asian language that she didn't understand at all.

"You getting any of that?" Kim asked as Ron squatted beside her. Ron's high school Spanish grades had been lower than Kim's, but he could at least hold simple conversations. Kim had forgotten most of hers.

"The Oriental either is, or represents, the seller. The Mexican is the buyer, and he's getting impatient because the shipment is late," Ron said quietly.

"How do you know he's a Mexican?" Kim asked.

"He said he wants to be back across the border by morning," Ron answered.

Kim nodded once. "Who's the third guy?" She had him pegged as muscle, if only because he was dressed like a street thug, in ragged jeans and a tank top, with a bandana on his head. He was covered with tattoos, with long scraggly hair and a poorly trimmed goatee and moustache. Quite a contrast with other two, who worn suits and ties. Muscle Boy had said little while they watched, and spent most of his time eyeing the Oriental with a mix of suspicion and hostility.

"I'm not sure," Ron admitted. "He seems to work for the Mexican, but in what capacity, I don't know."

"I'm sure we'll find out soon enough," Kim decided. "In the mean time we'll just have to be patient."

They didn't have to wait long. A few minutes at most went by before they heard the sound of a truck approaching. One of the Mexican's men, a fellow who shared Muscle Boy's fashion sense, opened the door of the loading dock. As Kim and Ron watched a truck backed up into place. The rear doors were unlocked and swung open, then some of the Oriental's crew entered the cargo box, emerging a shortly with several crates of various sizes. Taking a crowbar from one of his assistants the Oriental pried open the smallest one while the Mexican looked on. A huge grin split the man's face when he saw the contents of the crate. He stooped down, then held up a small statue. The Oriental smiled as well, and the two men shook hands.

"I think we've seen enough, don't you?" Kim asked with a grin of her own.

""Boo-yah!" Ron agreed with quiet enthusiasm. Without another word the two drew their grapple guns and fired at the ceiling above the men. Startled by the sound, all the men on the warehouse floor looked up, just in time to see Kim and Ron swinging down into their midst. Team Possible had achieved complete surprise.

Except that they hadn't. The men reacted instantly and with cool professionalism. The Mexican and his men produced pieces of pipe, lengths of chain and even a few switchblade knives, while the Oriental and his crew brought out a variety of eastern melee weapons. It quickly became apparent that the men were not only much better fighters than typical henchmen, but that they were in fact part of the same outfit. That was the only possible explanation for the immediate ease with which they worked together.

That wasn't the only strange thing either. Instead of overwhelming them at once, the men contented themselves with double teaming Kim and Ron. A few went so far as to leave the area, and one actually took a post near the main exit.

Kim kicked the legs out from under one of the men attacking her. He rolled as he fell and sprang back to his feet, little harmed, a moment later.

"It's a trap," Kim snarled.

"Ya think?" Ron snapped sarcastically.

"Let's get out of here!" Kim suggested, backing toward the maze of crates looming behind them. "One two. One. Two!" Ron turned and bolted, knocking aside a man who tried to block their path, Kim doing the same after dropping a sting ball to discourage pursuit. Ron added a smoke grenade for good measure and the teens ran for the back door.

It was blocked.

A desk, or something, had been pushed in front of it. Two men guarded it as well. Kim whipped a sting ball at them. The spray of plastic pellets should have sent them diving for cover, but they only started at the small explosion. One of them snapped on the lights and Kim saw why. They were wearing body armor and helmets with full face plates.

"Damn it!" she swore. She swore again as the men pulled out guns. She was about to charge them when Ron jerked her back and pulled her behind a crate.

Shots boomed in the cavernous warehouse, and Kim heard bullets hitting crates. There was a bellow from up front, then shouted words.

"No shooting you, uh, idiots," Ron translated. Kim smiled thinly. She didn't know much Spanish, but she knew enough to know that the word 'Chaperos' didn't mean 'idiots'. "Spread out and find them! And remember, he wants them alive!"

"Nice to know we're wanted," Kim said grimly. "Let's take the high ground, Ron. And smoke things up a bit, would you?" With that Kim began climbing the piles of crates. Ron threw his remaining smoke grenades in all directions. Kim added hers as well, and soon the warehouse was choked with blindingly thick smoke. Kim and Ron had to don filter masks it got so bad. Suspiciously, there wasn't much coughing or choking coming from the bad guys either.

"Not good, K.P.," Ron whispered. "These guys are prepared for us." Kim nodded and held a finger to her mask. Footsteps sounded from beneath them. She could hear movement on the crates as well, though nothing close. She and Ron had moved toward the center of the warehouse and were now trying to get to a side wall, where they might find a window and get the hell out of here.

After listening a moment Kim said," Let's get moving again." The words had no more than left her mouth when there was a 'thwack' sound. A tiny, feathered dart was quivering it a crate right next to her. Ron spun, saw an amorphous shape in the smoke, and threw a sting ball at it. Then he and Kim dropped of the crates to the floor.

"Go!" Kim urged. They ran a short distance, almost bowling over one of their pursuers at an intersection between rows of crates, then ducking into a nook to hide.

"I think the smoke is thinning, Kim," Ron said. He was right. The warehouse's fans weren't much, but they were slowly dissipating the gray fog. That would be bad. Kim hesitated only briefly before she pulled out her Kimmunicator.

"What's up Kim?" Wade asked groggily.

"Ambush, Wade," Kim explained quickly. "We need backup. Get a GJ strike team here ASAP!"

Wade's fingers flew. "No can do, Kim," he apologized. "Trouble is brewing all over southern California. All available teams are out. They can divert one, but it'll take twenty or thirty minutes to get them there."

"I doubt we have that much time," Kim said. "I'll try another tack." She pushed a special button on the side of the Kimmunicator.

"Watchtower, Blue Beetle here."

"Beetle, it's Kim Possible. Ron and I could use some help. Is Supergirl handy?" Blue Beetle shook his head.

"Supergirl's got her hands full in Metropolis at the moment," he said.

"Anyone you can send would be appreciated!" Kim said hastily, sketching the situation.

"We're stretched pretty thin ourselves," he replied. "Nearly everyone's out on missions."

"Tonight's the night for it," Kim agreed.

"There are a few folks here though. Let me see what I can do." Beetle's hands had been busy the whole time he'd been talking. "Got it!" he exclaimed. "Found you a pick-up team, Kim. I'll beam them straight to your location. ETA, thirty seconds!"

"Thanks, Beetle. Kim Possible out."

The thirty seconds ticked away with agonizing slowness. The smoke was getting thinner by the moment, and there were footsteps all around and...

Kim felt the familiar sensation of static electricity. Two columns of blue white light flared into existence. The columns faded to reveal the forms of a man and a woman.

"Black Canary and Green Arrow!" Ron exclaimed.

Canary smiled at him. "Hey Ron," she said by way of greeting, her voice slightly muffled by the breath mask she was wearing. Green Arrow, similarly masked, touched two fingers to the bill of his cap in salute.

"You must be Kim," Canary went on, suddenly all business. "What are we up against?"

"A dozen or more guys with black belts, and maybe guns as well," Kim supplied.

"Sounds like we've got them outnumbered," Green Arrow said cheerfully. As Kim gaped at his cockiness, he added, "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go get 'em!"

* * *

Two goons were cautiously approaching an intersection in the rows of crates, one on point, the other keeping a watchful eye out for trouble. Out of the corner of one eye he saw a shadow move in the thinning smoke. Whirling he was confronted with a lithe redhead. 

"Looking for me?" Kim jeered. The goon opened his mouth as if to speak, then crumpled as Kim's fist smashed into his jaw. At the sound of her voice the goon's companion turned as well. He was clawing for his weapon when a green shafted arrow, tipped with a boxing glove of all things, caught him in the side of the head. He joined his friend on the floor.

The sounds of the scuffle had drawn the attention of other thugs. Two more shapes emerged from the gloom, somersaulting down from the tops of crates. As Kim watched, Ron took on a goon and dealt with him in a brisk, workmanlike fashion. Black Canary, on the other hand...

Ron had told Kim about Canary's prowess as a martial artist, but Kim had thought Ron was exaggerating. Not so. If anything, he'd been understating matters. Canary started with two goons, with a third joining in almost immediately. In mere seconds she had them all laid out.

"Damn," Kim breathed in admiration. "That was amazing!"

Canary grinned and started to reply, when a hollow voice echoed from the still open truck.

"Tut tut tut, Ms. Possible. If you get reinforcements, my men should too, don't you think?"

A black clad figure emerged from the truck. Without a word Green Arrow nocked an arrow and loosed it at the newcomer. The man didn't just dodge the arrow, he actually snatched it out of the air and tossed it contemptuously to one side.

Ron was closest to the mystery man, and sprang forward to attack, launching a flurry of blows that were blocked effortlessly. Then he found himself skidding across the concrete floor, victim of a side kick that knocked the wind out of him. Kim tried next, with no better result. Canary managed to land a few blows, but she too was outclassed, a fact that Kim found a little frightening.

Ron was staggering to his feet as Canary drew back, leaving the ninja standing imperiously in the middle of the dock. He made no move to follow her.

"We'll all rush him at once," Canary commanded in a low voice. "That's probably the only way we can take him."

Kim and the others nodded in agreement.

The ninja spoke. Somehow he had overheard them.

"As much fun as that might be, I really don't have time for it," he said haughtily. Ron felt his skin crawl. There was something familiar about the voice, but he couldn't put his finger on what that was. From the folds of his gi the ninja produced a silvery sphere that he tossed in their direction. It landed well short. Ron assumed it was a grenade of some sort, perhaps a smoke bomb. Unexpectedly the sphere erupted in a flash of bluish light. Ron felt his muscles turn to jelly, and only just managed to keep his face from bouncing off the floor as he fell. Canary, Arrow, and Kim were similarly affected. The goons too, Ron noted dully. Only the ninja escaped the grenade's effect. He crossed to where they lay and scooped Kim up, slinging her over his shoulder. He carried her to the open crate, removed a small object, and muttered something Ron couldn't make out. Tendrils of red-gold light flickered into being, gathering at a point just behind the ninja. The point grew into a circle, through which Ron could see...somewhere else. A portal. Mustering his will, Ron pushed himself up.

"Oh...no...you...don't!" he grated. The paralysis was fading quickly, though Canary and Green Arrow seemed to not to be coming out of it as fast.

The ninja turned to look at him and nodded once.

"Impressive, Ron Stoppable," he said with grudging admiration.

Ron was confused. "You know my..."

The ninja reached up and tugged off his hood. Ron felt his blood freeze.

"You!" he choked.

"Me!" Lord Monty Fiske cackled. "Did you miss me?" he added sarcastically.

"N-n-not possible," Ron stammered. "H-how...?"

"'How' is less important than 'why'," Fiske snorted. "'Why' is to make you pay for what you did to me." He smiled affably. "And now a substantial portion of the means to that end is in my hands," he went on, patting Kim's fanny as he did so.

Roaring with rage Ron launched himself into a flying kick aimed at Fiske's head. Moving with utter calm, Fiske stepped through the portal, turned, and offered Ron a hate-filled smile. The portal snapped shut. Ron sailed through empty air, landing hard in the bed of the truck. Groaning, he looked back at where Fiske had been. How Fiske had returned from the dead, Ron couldn't even guess. Why Fiske taken Kim instead of him, he _could _guess, and the guesses weren't pleasant.

Canary and Arrow were back on their feet as well. Canary came up and laid a hand on Ron's shoulder.

"Don't worry, Ron. We'll get her back," she assured him.

"We have to find her first," Ron said grimly.


	13. A Magical Puzzle

**Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by the Disney Corporation. Supergirl and all related characters and indicia are owned by DC Comics. Adam is the creation of Triaxx2. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.**

WWLAOS: Patience is a virtue that will be rewarded next chapter :).

_Triaxx2: Your comment has given me an idea!_

Ron sat on a crate in the warehouse, his head in his hands. He was fretting, something he sometimes did when confronted with circumstances over which he had no control. He wasn't _especially _worried, at least not about Kim's immediate safety. Monty Fiske was insane, to be sure, but the real focus of his madness was on Ron. Still, the more time went by the more likely it was that Fiske would do something...

No.

Ron forced those thoughts from his head. 'Don't borrow trouble,' he told himself.

Looking up, he saw Black Canary talking with two of the Long Beach police officers who'd arrived to take Monkey Fist's goons into custody. He couldn't hear what she was saying, and since she was facing away from him, Ron didn't know what her expression was, but it was clear she was in the process of wrapping the two men around her little finger.

"How you holding up?" Green Arrow asked quietly. Ron glanced over his shoulder. Arrow was leaning against a nearby pillar.

"Well enough, I guess," Ron shrugged. "How much longer until she gets here?"

It was Green Arrow's turn to shrug. "Beetle said she'd head here as soon as she finished the case she was on, so who knows? It could be..." Arrow paused. Ron felt a surge of static electricity. "...now." Arrow grinned. Blue-white light flared and condensed into the familiar form of Zatanna Zatarra. To Ron's surprise, a second flash of light preceded the appearance of the young mage called Adam.

"Babysitting again, Zee?" Arrow jibed. Zatanna gave him a harried smile, while Adam glared.

"Dr. Fate decided he's ready for a little field experience," Zatanna shrugged. She turned to Ron. "Why don't you tell us exactly what happened?" she prompted with a sympathetic smile.

Ron began recounting the events of the evening. "...then, just as we were about to rush him, he pulled off his mask. It was Monkey Fist."

"Monkey Fist?" Adam interjected. "I thought he was dead?"

"He _should_ be," Ron agreed sourly. "After all, I killed him myself." Ron's face darkened and he scowled. "I guess he didn't stay dead though."

"Go on, Ron," Zatanna urged.

"Well, he tossed this at us," Ron said, holding up a small silvery ball. "There was a flash and everyone except MF fell down. He grabbed Kim, then took something out of that crate over there," Ron said, pointing. "A portal made of the same light we saw in Germany opened up behind him, he stepped through it with Kim, and poof! he was gone."

Zatanna nodded silently. "May I?" she asked, reaching out and taking the ball from Ron. While he watched curiously she gave it what seemed to be no more than a casual glance. Then she tossed it to Adam who, though initially surprised, managed to catch it gracefully.

"What can you tell us about that?" Zatanna asked.

The young mage turned the ball over and over in his fingers, peering intently at what to Ron's eye was a featureless surface. Then, in a gesture Ron found so odd it bordered on bizarre, Adam raised the sphere to his nose and sniffed it. Ron's eyes flicked to Zatanna, who was watching calmly. She didn't seem to think anything was amiss, so Ron didn't say anything. After a few more moments Adam held the sphere out to Zatanna.

"The ball," Adam began, "is hollow and made of pure silver. It was recently enchanted with a simple paralysis spell that was set to be triggered when the sphere hit something solid."

Ron blinked. "You mean it has an impact fuse?" he demanded, not really sure why he sounded surprised.

"In a manner of speaking," Adam confirmed.

"Great!" Ron groused. "Not only is Monkey Fist not dead anymore, but now he's got magical powers, too!"

Zatanna shook her head. "Not necessarily, Ron," she corrected. "This thing was made so anyone could use it, even someone with no magical skills at all."

"Besides," Adam added, "If your monkey friend could have enchanted this, it would have been easier for him to just cast the spell."

"Same goes for the portal too, I suppose?" Ron asked glumly.

"Let me see what I can find out," Zatanna suggested. She moved the spot Ron indicated and said something in her peculiar magic language. Ron thought he saw a few flickers of red, but he wasn't sure.

"Not much there, I'm afraid," Zatanna reported. "Which pretty much confirms what I suspected."

"Which is...?" Ron prompted.

"That the portal's point of origin was somewhere other than here."

"So what was the thing Monkey Fist picked up?" Green Arrow asked. "I couldn't make our what he said right after, but it sounded like it rhymed."

"Who knows?" Zatanna shrugged helplessly. "If you want me to guess I'll say it was what we call a guide stone, a minor artifact that can be used to do what Monkey Fist did."

"By anyone, suppose?" Green Arrow said acidly.

"I'm afraid so."

Green Arrow turned away, muttering under his breath. Ron couldn't help but empathize. He was frustrated too.

"Gah!" Ron exclaimed. "We're wasting time discussing means when we should be focused on ends! I want to know where Monkey Fist took her!" He almost shouted the last. Black Canary, who had slipped away from the police and rejoined the group, sat down next to him and slipped an arm around his waist.

"I understand, Ron," she soothed gently. "But speculating on the basis of very little evidence isn't going to do us any good."

Ron seemed to deflate, sagging into a slouch and staring down at the floor.

Canary looked up at Zatanna. "So, Monkey Fist has a wizard for an ally, one who gives him magical toys, and who probably also restored him to life. How many evil wizards are there who are powerful enough to do something like that?"

Zatanna snorted. "Dozens."

"Like who? Name some names."

"Oh, let's see," Zatanna mused, and began ticking off the items on her fingers. "...Mordru, Morgaine le Fey, Circ-"

"Felix Faust," a grim new voice broke in.

Ron's head snapped up. "Supergirl!" he exclaimed, springing to his feet at the sight of the blue eyed blonde and her red, white and blue uniform. He started forward. Kara met him half way, clutching him in a fierce embrace as his arms went around her.

"It's good to see you," Ron murmured, pressing his face into Kara's silky hair.

"I just wish I'd been here earlier," Kara apologized, "but..."

"Never mind that," Ron reproved softly. "Metropolis needed you and-" He stopped abruptly, drew back, and pushed Kara out to arms length.

"What happened to your face!" he demanded suddenly, staring in disbelief at the yellowing bruise that surrounded Kara's right eye.

"A guy called the Atomic Skull," Kara answered. Seeing the look of concern on Ron's face she went on, "Relax, Ron. It's a lot better than it was fifteen minutes ago, and I'll bet it'll be gone in half an hour." He stared at her blankly. "I'm a fast healer," she clarified.

"Never mind that either," Zatanna cut in, mimicking Ron's earlier words. "What's this about Felix Faust?" she demanded.

"To summarize?" Kara asked seriously. "Faust hired an outfit called Skull to go after me specifically. They staged a fake smuggling job to flush me out, then turned the Atomic Skull loose on me when I showed up."

"Never heard of anyone called the Atomic Skull," Green Arrow observed.

"That's because Skull cooked him up especially for the occasion. With, I might add, some help from an expert Faust put them in touch with." Kara paused theatrically and shot Ron a knowing glance. "DNAmy."

"The rogue geneticist?" Black Canary asked, a touch skeptically. "What makes her involvement so important?"

Ron had his eyes squeezed shut and was pressing the palms of his hands against his temples. He seemed to be highly agitated and deep in thought at the same time. He moved erratically, turning this way and that, snapping his fingers and pointing at nothing in the same gesture.

Suddenly he straightened up.

"It's like this," he began. "DNAmy was, is, sweet on Monkey Fist. She was always a whack job, but she really lost it after he...died."

Kara nodded in agreement and spoke up. "There was an inquest into the shooting, afterward, to make sure Ron was justified in using deadly force," she explained. "DNAmy showed up, hysterical, and swore she'd make Ron pay for what he did."

"She could have made Monkey Fist a new body," Ron suggested forcefully.

"And Felix Faust could have restored Fiske's spirit to it," Zatanna agreed. "But when? These monkey crimes only started a month or so ago, right after your first visit to the...Watch...tower..." Zatanna's voice faltered, her eyes going wide.

"Zee? Zee, what is it?" Kara asked sharply.

"The Watchtower! Ron's seizure!" Zatanna said excitedly. "That was Faust performing the ritual." She was silent again for a moment while the others just stared in disbelief, or confusion. Then she stuck a hand out in front of her, palm up, fingers spread.

"!won etaF rotcoD em teG" the raven haired magician barked. Colors swirled above her hand, solidifying into an image of a dimly lit room. A bedroom. With an occupied bed. Whose occupants weren't sleeping. There was a shriek, more of surprise than fear, from the woman. The man turned around, starting at whatever it was he saw.

"Zatanna, I told you not to do that except in an emergency," the man said angrily.

"Which is what this is," Zatanna snapped back. "We think Felix Faust brought Monkey Fist back from the dead," she added, telling the man what little else they knew. The man and the woman shared a look. She nodded in understanding.

"I'll be right there," the man assured Zatanna. Bright light flared in the image Zatanna was projecting. A similar light appeared behind them. Ron turned in time to see a huge ankh fade away to reveal the blue and gold clad form of Dr. Fate.

* * *

The next little while (or was it hours?) passed in a swirl of jumbled images. Ron felt utterly helpless. He was a trained Global Justice field operative with years of experience under his belt, and here he was, sitting idly by while some of the most powerful people on Earth tried to solve his problem for him. 

Ron chuckled bitterly. No, that wasn't entirely true. Or was 'fair' the word he was looking for? Green Arrow was just a regular guy, after all. Without his gadgets, all he had to bring to the table were smarts and courage. Which, Ron had to admit, were really the most important things in a hero's arsenal. And there was Kara, of course. Knowing nothing about magic, she could only sit beside Ron, a comforting arm around his shoulders, while Fate and Zatanna argued about the proper course of action. Black Canary was with them, mostly listening, but weighing in with a question or an observation every now and then.

"That is some woman," Ron mused aloud, after Canary asked a question that seemed to surprise Dr. Fate.

"How so?" Kara asked him, her tone playfully offended.

"She's drop-dead gorgeous, disarmingly down-to-earth, and smart as a whip," Ron explained. "Kind of reminds me of someone else I know," he added, winking at Kara.

"Flatterer," she accused haughtily, but smiling none-the-less. Kara's own expression grew sly.

"You shouldn't talk about Green Arrow's girlfriend like that when he's within earshot," she said in a stage whisper.

If Kara was expecting an embarrassed or angry reaction, Ron noted, she didn't get it. Green Arrow just laughed.

"Nice try, Kid," he mocked. "I don't mind other guys looking," he added, nodding at Ron, "'cause I know she's going home with me at the end of the day."

While Kara and Green Arrow exchanged playful banter, Ron regarded the other person present. The mage named Adam was standing with Fate and Zatanna, but talking even less than Black Canary was. Ron felt a pang of sympathy. From the expression on Adam's face, it was clear he felt as much like a fifth wheel as Ron did. On impulse, Ron stood up and crossed to where the young man stood.

"Let's take a walk," Ron suggested. Adam's brow furrowed in curiosity, but he followed as Ron moved away from the two League magicians.

"You understand any of that?" Ron inquired, jerking his head at Fate and Zatanna.

"Oh, yeah," Adam said confidently. Ron gave him a skeptical look. "Well, some of it, anyhow," Adam amended. He glanced over at the two Leaguers. "Right now Zatanna is trying to convince Dr. Fate that...uh...oh, hell. I don't understand any of it," Adam admitted.

"Aren't you a wizard too?" Ron asked.

"Mage," Adam corrected. "A self-taught mage at that. I don't understand Zatanna's form of magic at all, and Dr. Fate is so far above me, skill-wise, that..." The young man let the rest of the sentence hang.

Ron grinned. "Welcome to the club," he joked, holding out his hand. "I'm Ron Stoppable."

"Adam Marcae," the youngster replied, shaking Ron's hand and grinning as well.

Before Ron could say anything else, his Kimmunicator beeped, demanding his attention.

"What up, Wade?" he asked, trying to sound cheerful. Wade hadn't been idle since Kim had been kidnapped. He'd been trying to locate her via her own Kimmunicator, and apparently he'd had some luck. At least, Ron hoped he had.

"I found Kim!" Wade said triumphantly, and Ron felt his spirits soar. "Well," Wade amended, "At least I found her Kimmunicator." Ron nodded, and noted that Kara was suddenly looking over his shoulder. He was pretty sure she hadn't been there a second ago.

"Super speed?" Ron asked lightly, giving Kara a teasing glance.

"Super hearing too," Kara answered with a smug smile, even as she threaded an arm around Ron's waist.

"Where is she, Wade?" Ron asked, looking at the screen again.

"Louisiana," Wade informed him. "About forty miles northwest of New Orleans." The small screen split as Wade's image went to picture-in-picture mode. The main image switched to a map of the state, with crosshairs marking Kim's location.

"I'm worried though," Wade said, his expression darkening. Ron felt a tremor of unease run through him.

"I've been trying to get remote access for like, half an hour, with no luck," Wade explained. Then, about a minute ago, the homing beacon switched on. No voice communications, no nothing, just the beacon."

Ron and Kara shared a look. That _was_ odd, and a little frightening.

Before Ron could elaborate on his fears, a Justice League comm-link chimed. Ron's head snapped around. Dr. Fate pulled a small device from his belt and spoke into it.

"Yes?" Faintly Ron heard the voice of Blue Beetle.

"We got a call from Louisiana," Ron heard Beetle say, "Something weird going on north of New Orleans." Everyone crowded around Fate. The screen on his comm was even smaller than the Kimmunicator's but the image it showed was just as clear. It was a high angle (probably satellite) view of a swampy forest. Smack dab in the middle of the screen was a dome of red-gold light.

"Monkey Fist," Ron grated.

* * *

The dome of light covered a sprawling Ante-bellum mansion and its grounds. It was also quite impenetrable. Kara had pounded on it until her knuckles bled, to no avail. Doctor Fate and Zatanna had tried every spell they could think of with no success. 

Ron's spirits had sunk again. He sat on the ground in a funk, listening to Green Arrow vent his own frustration.

"There has to be a way in," Arrow said angrily. "I mean, we had no idea where they even were until they showed us. They must want us to get in. It can't be impossible."

'That makes a certain amount of sense,' Ron agreed silently. 'Now all we have to do is find out...' Ron's train of thought slid to a halt. Adam was leaning against the dome. As Ron watched the mage stared intently at the barrier. Then he sniffed it. Then, to Ron's shock, Adam reached out with his tongue and licked it.

"What the heck are you doing?" Ron demanded sharply.

"Trying to find out what this dome thing is," Adam explained nonchalantly.

"By tasting it?" Ron mocked.

"Yeah," Adam shot back. "Some people use spells to analyze mystic energy. I use my five senses. Some of it I can see, some I can hear, and some..."

"...you can taste?" Ron finished incredulously.

"And what have you discovered?" Dr. Fate asked, startling Ron.

"That this field is composed of two kinds of energy," Adam answered. "One is your ordinary, run-of-the-mill negative energy. The other is the same stuff that's running through Ron."

Ron could almost see Fate blink. A golden gloved hand settled on Ron's forehead, while its opposite number brushed the shield.

"The two are similar, I admit," Fate said slowly, "but their textural properties..."

"That difference is because Ron is a living being, and this stuff is being channeled through an artifact," Adam said confidently, gesturing between Ron and the shield. "I'm sure of it."

Fate seemed skeptical, but said, "Then perhaps Mr. Stoppable is the key." He turned his helmeted gaze to Ron.

"Me?" Ron asked in disbelief.

"Monkey Fist wants revenge on _you_," Fate pointed out. "He set clues for _you_ to follow, and kidnapped _your_ friend. Perhaps he arranged things so only you could enter in here."

"It's worth a shot, Kid," Green Arrow chimed in. "What have you got to lose?"

An excellent point, Ron had to admit. He'd never be able to live with himself if something happened to Kim and it had been in his power to prevent it. Hesitantly, Ron approached the dome. Brushing it with his fingertips he felt an electric thrill run up his arm. He pushed, ever so lightly. His hand sank effortlessly into the shield. He drew it back, then plunged his arm in to the shoulder. Same thing. Ron pulled back and stared at his arm in wonder.

"I can do it!" Ron whispered. On impulse he ran at the dome. He passed completely through it, then turned around and came back.

"I can do it!" Ron shouted triumphantly. Kara gave him a congratulatory hug, then looked at Fate.

"Maybe Ron can take us all through?" she suggested.

"Not likely," a cold, flat voice said from behind them. Ron started, then looked to see Batman emerging from the shadows beneath some nearby trees.

"Would you stop doing that?" Ron asked plaintively.

"And what do you mean, not likely?" Kara added sharply. Batman pointed, and Ron looked over his shoulder. His backpack had been sheared away, as cleanly as with a knife. Only the inch or so of it closest to his body remained.

"You'll have to go in alone, find what's generating this, and disable it," Batman said. "Think you can manage that?"

"By myself?" Ron squeaked. "I'm not even a match for Monkey-boy anymore, let alone an arch-mage. Even with the Lotus Blade..." Ron stopped, clapping his hand over his mouth.

"Summon it," Fate commanded. While Kara and the others looked on curiously, Ron held up his hand. Mere moments later the hilt of the jade green sword slapped into his palm.

"Wow!" was all Kara had to say.

"That should even the odds," Fate said encouragingly.

"I hope it's enough," Ron muttered.

"In case it isn't," Batman cut in, "I have an idea."


	14. Batman Strikes

Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by the Disney Corporation. Supergirl and all related characters and indicia are owned by DC Comics/Warner Bros. Adam is the creation of Triaxx2. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.

_Triaxx2: You're welcome._

_Darkcloud1: There are four including this one. Hope you didn't miss any :)_

_star's dreams: No danger of that._

_gargoylesama: Sorry, it's against the law to throw trash in the water :)_

**_Note: If you want me to email you have to know that embedded links aren't allowed in reviews. You need to write out your email address like this: firelass(at)mchsi(dot)com If you don't, I won't see anything after the (at) sign._**

Kim studied her surroundings surreptitiously. Not that she needed to be subtle. Monkey Fist, DNAmy, and the tall, thin man Fist introduced as Felix Faust had their attention on other matters, and paid Kim little heed. That was understandable, given her present circumstances. She was bound to a platform of some kind. It was made of wood, and leaned back at a forty-five degree angle. There was a step at the bottom for her feet, which were bound together and to the platform. Her arms were stretched out to either side and bound at the wrists with the same silk cords that held her feet.

Kim smiled inwardly, despite herself. As prisons went, this one was fairly comfortable. Kim tried, again, to pull her hand through the loop around her wrist. No luck. There wasn't enough give in the cord, not yet anyway. Perhaps if she could get it wet, with sweat or blood, she'd be able to manage that. Kim's inner smile faded. That was really her only option, at least for the moment. While she had still been shaking off the effect of whatever it was Monkey Fist had hit them with back at the warehouse, he had searched her person thoroughly and relieved her of all of her gear, including the stuff disguised as mundane objects.

Oh well. You had to play the hand you were dealt. If she couldn't use her myriad gadgets to escape, she'd just have to be creative. Kim turned her gaze to the two men guarding her. At least she assumed they were men. They were tall, but somewhat lacking in upper body mass. In fact, they were downright spindly. They were clad head to toe in dull black armor that looked like a modern version of medieval plate, with full face helmets that left only their eyes exposed. Those eyes were wholly black, without the slightest hint of whites. That made it impossible for Kim to tell if they were looking at her or not. Still, she had noted that when she tested her bonds, one of the men had turned his head slightly, as if to get a better view. He hadn't tried to stop her, had made no other movement at all since taking his post. Normally that would have told Kim a great deal about the man, but she was having a hard time reading him. There was no parade ground stiffness, none of the relaxed confidence of the seasoned pro, none of the careless ease of a rank amateur. There was nothing at all. The men just stood there, unmoving, almost like mannequins.

Not wanting to dwell on that disturbing little fact, Kim examined their weapons. The two carried half-spears, about four feet long and tipped with gleaming, slender, knife-like points that added another foot and a half. Getting poked with those wouldn't be fun, but it would at least be survivable, as long as her heart or brain weren't hit.

Kim moved on. To either side of her were platforms identical to the one she was on, but empty. In front of them was a large slab of marble, stained black by a liquid Kim couldn't help but think was blood. Behind the soldiers guarding her, men and women in black robes scurried about, arranging various items and objects around the slab. The whole scene screamed 'altar' and Kim had a notion of what the sacrifice would entail.

Kim's eyes found Monkey Fist again. He was in the middle of the room, pacing back and forth, clearly agitated. DNAmy was wringing her hands nervously, her expression broadcasting the anxiety she was feeling. Felix Faust, on the other hand, was a picture of calm. Seated cross-legged on the floor, he was actually attempting to meditate, by the look of it.

'Monkey Fist could learn a thing or two from that guy,' Kim noted sourly. She had never heard of Felix Faust, and had no idea who he might be. What little she had overheard so far suggested that he was a magician, but how skilled he was, and what kind of magic he practiced, Kim could only guess at.

"What is taking them so long?" Monkey Fist demanded suddenly, throwing up his arms in frustration and glaring at Faust.

Faust didn't answer right away. After a few seconds he spoke, not bothering to open his eyes. "Since they have already discovered, as we intended, that Stoppable can penetrate the shield I erected, they are no doubt scheming to wring every possible advantage they can out of that fact."

"For three hours?" Fist bellowed, spittle flying from his mouth. That was how much time had passed since Faust first sensed the ripples in the shield caused by Ron's interaction with it. Fist hadn't taken the delay well. Apparently he'd been expecting Ron to charge right in, straight into the trap that had been set for him. When Ron hadn't obliged, Monkey Fist had seemed surprised. As minutes became hours he'd grown irritable, then downright angry. His mood hadn't been helped by the fact that Faust was unable to eavesdrop on whatever was being discussed. Apparently Dr. Fate and Zatanna were able to weave sufficiently complex anti-scrying spells that Faust couldn't penetrate them, something that annoyed Monkey Fist far more than it did Faust.

"It will take as long as it takes," Faust said simply. "After they've schemed themselves out, Stoppable will still have to enter the house alone. I find it hard to conceive of any combination of factors that would keep you from beating him." Faust did open an eye then. "And working yourself into a state won't help," he added coolly.

Monkey Fist drew a deep breath, swelling up as if in preparation for a tirade. But he only let the breath out slowly, sinking to the floor in a cross-legged position that mirrored Faust's.

"You're right, of course," Monkey Fist said, a hint of apology in his tone. Faust nodded slightly, and Monkey Fist closed his own eyes. DNAmy calmed down as well, and Kim decided that her agitation had been entirely due to Monkey Fist's mood. Kim watched as the rogue geneticist sat down in an easy chair along the wall, picked up a book and began to read.

Kim snorted. If her captors weren't going to do anything until Ron showed up, she might as well work at getting loose. The ever attentive guards would make that difficult, but at least it was something to do.

Kim had succeeded in rubbing her wrist raw, but little else, when Faust's eyes popped open and he jumped to his feet.

"He's coming," Faust announced. "He passed through the shield a moment ago, and hasn't gone back out."

Monkey Fist stood up as well. Faust held an arm out to one side and snapped his fingers. One of his assistants scurried up, carrying a globe of clear crystal. Faust took it, passed his hands over it while muttering words that made Kim's skin crawl, then released the ball. It floated in the air in front of him, and he bent down to peer intently into it. Seconds passed. Faust frowned. He spoke and gestured again. The frown became a scowl.

"What's the matter?" Monkey Fist asked anxiously.

"I can't find him," Faust reported grimly. He looked up briefly, meeting Monkey Fist's gaze. "That meddler Fate's doing, no doubt. He must have put a warding charm, or maybe an invisibility spell on Stoppable. No matter. There are ways around that." Faust bent forward again, as if he was about to set to work, when a chime sounded.

"What is it?" Faust demanded, speaking to no one in particular.

A disembodied voice echoed in the room. "A guard found the veranda door forced open," it reported dryly.

"So," Faust said with a cold smile. "It begins at last." Then, more formally, "To all my servants. Ron Stoppable has entered the house. Stay alert, report any unusual events, but take no action against him. Leave him for us."

Time passed. There were four large entrances to this particular room, Kim had noted, one in each wall. The massive doors of each were standing open. The position of her platform gave her a clear view of only one. Two more she could see into just a few feet. The fourth she had to crane her head as far as she could to see at all.

Time passed.

Kim began to sense tension in the air. There seemed to be a presence in the room, but she neither saw nor heard any sign of an intruder. Faust was turning slowly in place, his eyes crushed into a fierce glare as he sought for whatever it was. Monkey Fist too was on edge, but he seemed to be listening, standing frozen in place, his eyes closed. For her part DNAmy was huddling in her chair, suddenly too terrified to even breathe.

Monkey Fist finally spoke. "Whatever happens, Faust, stay out of this. Stoppable is mine."

"But -"

"No. I want your word on it."

Faust stared at Fist, his expression unreadable. He shrugged. "As you wish."

Monkey Fist kept listening. A huge grin crept onto his face. "I can hear you," he taunted softly. "Show yourself!" He barked the command with the confidence of a man who knows he will be obeyed. There was a moment of utter silence.

"No," a cold, monotone voice answered.

There was a flash, of light glinting off polished metal. Kim saw something come spinning toward her. As it flew it split in three. The pieces thudded into the platform, severing her bonds. Curved blades were joined back to back by a crossbar that featured points on its upper and lower edges.

Kim stared. Faust and Fist stared. Faust found his voice first.

"Batman!"

As Kim watched, a figure in gleaming black armor shimmered into existence behind Monkey Fist.

"Give your friend a prize," the cold voice growled, even as the armored figure hauled back a fist and smashed it into the side of Monkey Fist's head. The monkey master spun with the blow and kept his feet. Faust raised his hands, but Monkey Fist cut him off with a gesture.

"No! Stay out of it! I'll deal with him myself!"

Faust merely shrugged again and stepped back.

Monkey Fist and Batman circled warily. Kim got a good view of the new suit the Dark Knight wore. It was a full body affair, with a full face helmet that sported black lenses at the eyes and a grill where the mouth should have been. Decorative ears on the helmet and a red bat symbol on the chest completed the look.

"New tailor, Crusader?" Monkey Fist jibed, lunging forward, launching a flurry of blows. Batman blocked, feinted and threw Monkey Fist halfway across the room. Monkey Fist landed on his feet and came charging back. The two men grappled, exchanged blows, then Monkey Fist returned the favor and tossed Batman against a nearby wall. The Dark Knight was up almost instantly.

"How did you do it?" Monkey Fist said, panting a bit.

"Do what?" Batman asked.

"Get through the shield," Fist said impatiently.

"Fate played a hand," Batman growled, springing to the attack.

"No matter," Fist said dismissively, blocking easily and sending Batman sprawling. "You're wasting your time. Only a wielder of the mystical monkey power can approach the statue, let alone command it."

"What statue?" Batman probed as he regained his feet and unleashed a side kick that snapped Monkey Fist's head back.

* * *

Kim, who had been watching the fight, suddenly realized two things. One was that she was free. The second was that her guards were watching the battle as well. She moved. The guards noticed, lowering their weapons and coming after her. As she ran Kim snatched up a bamboo staff. A quick glance back showed she had opened the range enough. She spun to face her pursuers.

* * *

"What statue?" Monkey Fist repeated, yelling the words. "The statue that's generating the shield you pointy eared twit!" Batman's head turned to follow Fist's pointing finger. A jade monkey stood next to the tablet of black basalt from the library in Germany. Both were enveloped in glowing strands of red and green light. 

"Thanks," was all Batman said. He reached out and touched Fist. Electricity crackled and Monkey Fist flew back, stunned. Batman did a cartwheel and came to a halt right next to the statues.

* * *

Felix Faust stood frozen. He was five thousand years old, but he was still human. This completely unexpected turn of events had rattled him. As a consequence, he wasn't thinking as clearly or as quickly as he might have. He watched dumbfounded as Batman moved into the protected area. There was no way that was possible. There was no way Batman could have the mystical monkey power. Unless... Faust began to move. 

He wasn't fast enough.

* * *

Kim disposed of one of the guards, cracking him in the head, sending his helmet flying. She gasped in horror. The head beneath the helm was gray and featureless. 

"What are you guys?" she asked the second guard. He didn't answer. Kim swept his feet out from under him and turned toward the main action. Batman had moved to a pair of statues Kim hadn't noticed before.

* * *

Batman looked back at Monkey Fist, who was staring at him in amazement. 

"You told me just what I needed to know," Batman said in his cold, monotone voice, raising his hands.

A sword of glowing green jade sprang into existence in them.

"YOU HAIRY FREAK!" the same figure said in a totally different tone of voice before it brought the blade down.

* * *

Kim stood still, shocked. "Ron?" 

"Stoppable?" Monkey Fist stammered. Then, seeing what was about to happen, "No!"

The Lotus Blade cleaved the statue in two. For a brief instant nothing happened as the two halves fell apart. Then they exploded.

The blast threw Batman back, then seemed to collapse in on itself, even as the basalt tablet joined it in a sympathetic detonation.

Faust was screaming words that no one could hear. A pillar of green light shot through with red speared up from the confined fireball, carrying away the roof in a swirl of debris. Looking up, Kim caught a brief glimpse of a sky bathed in red light, then the light flickered and faded.

That was when all Hell broke loose.

A glowing ankh flared to life. Faust spun to face it, even as Dr. Fate and Zatanna emerged from its depths.

Outside, Adam exclaimed, "The shield is down! Commence attack on the Death Star's main reactor!" then sprinted toward the crumbling mansion. Kara was way ahead of him. Green Arrow, Black Canary and Batman shared a look, then charged after him, eager to join the fight.


	15. Battle Royale

**Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by Disney. Supergirl and all related characters and indicia are owned by DC Comics. Adam is the creation of Triaxx2. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.**

_WWLAOS: I'll have to go back and tweak my descriptions a bit, I guess. I wanted to describe the suit in enough detail that readers would realize that it was an early version of the suit from 'Batman Beyond'. Guess it didn't work._

_Thanks to: Triaxx2, star's dreams, Sand Lord, Forgotten466, gargoylesama and Ace Lannigan._

_This chapter is my first attempt at an extended, epic-type battle. I tried to balance it so everyone had a part to play, and tried to throw in a touch of humor as well. I'm not sure how good a job I did, so comments to that effect would be especially appreciated._

Kim was gaping at the boiling cauldron of energy and the column of light erupting from it. Why the blast had fallen back in on itself, she couldn't guess.

'Maybe Faust contained it,' she mused. A sudden premonition of danger led her to duck, just in time to avoid the blow aimed at her head by the second guard, who had regained his feet and come after her again. Recovering, Kim jabbed him in the belly with the end of her staff. He doubled over, but there was already another one coming up behind him. A quick glance showed many more people streaming into the chamber. Some wore armor, others robes. A number of them were heading for Ron, or Batman, or whoever he was. Kim dashed over to the black clad figure, her staff flailing. By the time she got there he was on his feet again.

"Hey, K.P.," he greeted her cheerfully, a voice that was clearly Ron's coming from the mouth...speaker? of the shiny black helmet.

"Ron! It is you!" Kim exclaimed, throwing her arms around him. "But what...?" She leaned back to arms length, staring at him. The suit was hard and shiny, unlike Batman's usual costume. It had also apparently been sized to Ron, who was not quite as tall as Batman, and considerably less muscular, especially up top. It was also bulkier than it should have been. "Is that some kind of powered armor?" she asked. Ron shook his head.

"Explanations later, K.P." he said. There was a certain urgency in his voice. Kim reacted instinctively, spinning away while Ron did the same thing in the opposite direction. A wicked looking axe embedded itself in the wall right where they had been standing. Halfway across the room a furious looking Monkey Fist snatched up another weapon, a pike with a long, narrow point, and charged.

* * *

Felix Faust unleashed a bolt of energy at Dr. Fate, who blocked it with a hastily raised hand. 

"Zatanna, containment, if you please," Fate ordered. Zatanna moved away from him, raising her hands as she went.

"Raeppa cigam niatnoc ot ebolg," she said in a commanding voice. A dimly visible sphere sprang into existence around Fate and Faust, who proceeded to cut loose on each other with all the power they possessed.

* * *

Kara was having trouble finding her way to the fight. The whole mansion, even the walls and floors, seemed to be ensorcelled. It didn't completely block her x-ray vision, but it definitely made things murky. Kara paused in the center of a small room that served as a junction of two hallways. The passageways had been decorated to resemble streets in the French Quarter of New Orleans, with arches and brickwork and wrought iron railings fronting 'balconies' that were only inches deep. Despite the urgency of the situation, Kara couldn't help but nod approvingly. 

"Whatever Faust's faults are, he has good taste in decor," she said to no one in particular. Listening intently, Kara thought she heard sounds of battle echoing down one of the corridors. She started forward, only to jump back in surprise as a heavy metal door thudded down in front of her, blocking the way.

"Don't want me to go that way, huh?" she asked. On a lark, she tried one of the other halls. Three more doors dropped down, trapping her in the small room.

"Nice try," Kara chuckled. To the first door she said, "This is going to hurt you a lot more than it will me, I'm happy to say." There was the barest hint of...something. Kara would later say that it was as if the featureless door had quirked an eyebrow at her and said, "Oh really?" She drew back her fist and let fly.

* * *

Kim dodged another of Faust's flunkies. She had discarded the staff, replacing it with a pike similar to the one Monkey Fist was wielding. 

'Had been wielding,' she amended when she saw Ron snag the shaft and yank the weapon out of Monkey Fist's grasp. Kim couldn't help but gasp when Ron snapped the thing across his knee as effortlessly as if it was a twig. Apparently the Bat-suit he was wearing augmented his strength along with whatever else it did. How he'd managed to talk Batman into letting him use it was a tale she would hear even she had to pry it out of him.

For his part, Monkey Fist was as angry as Kim had ever seen. Flecks and tendrils of saliva flew from his mouth as he bellowed and roared. He seemed to be saying something, but Kim couldn't make out what it was, not over the noise of the battle. Twirling the pike she sent another guard flying, then felt a peculiar numbness spread through her body. Turning awkwardly, Kim saw one of the people in robes gesturing at her while they chanted. Kim's limbs were starting to stiffen when a green feathered arrow caught the spell caster in the chest, it's blunted tip dropping the man like a sack of bricks. The numbness vanished instantly.

"Thanks for the save!" Kim called, waving at Green Arrow as he dashed into the chamber. Black Canary was right behind him, already wading into the thick of the fight. A young man had arrived as well. Kim had to think for a moment before she recognized him as Fate's protégé, though she couldn't recall his name at the moment. Green Arrow grinned back, then ducked to avoid a blow from a kama wielding guard.

* * *

Zatanna was sweating. Fate and Faust were unleashing enormous amounts of energy in their contest, enough to devastate the countryside for miles around. Only the globe she had erected kept that from happening, and even then she had to copy the effect of whatever Faust had done to contain the hellish maelstrom of eldritch energy that seethed in one corner of the room, and fit a relief valve. A second pillar of fire joined the first, lancing skyward. Keeping it up was a fairly difficult task, one that took almost all of Zatanna's concentration. She had very little attention to spare defending herself, and at least some of Faust's acolytes (the suicidal ones) were trying to distract her enough for her spell to fail. 

Out of the corner of her eye Zatanna saw a bolt of lightning take down one of the gray armored goons that were swarming into the room.

"Adam!" she shouted, recognizing the spell even if she couldn't see the caster. "Get over here and help me!"

The teenager obeyed at once. "What do you want me to do?" he asked, casting a nervous eye at the hurricane of energy surrounding Dr. Fate and his foe.

"My containment bubble is the only thing keeping us alive," Zatanna said from between clenched teeth. It was taking almost all of her willpower to keep the globe up. "Those idiots," she snarled, nodding at a small group of people in robes, "don't seem to realize that. Keep them off me."

"Got it," Adam said, moving away from her, eyeing his foes as he ducked behind a largish piece of the ceiling. Their attention was entirely on Zatanna, which suited him just fine. The problem was how to help Zatanna without drawing attention to himself. If Adam had learned anything in his short time in the League, it was that relative power level mattered. A lot. Back home, fighting muggers and pick-pockets, he could be careless, be flashy, and get away with it. Now, going up against four people who were, he had to assume, at least equally as skilled as he was, he'd have to fight smart. Very smart. Or else they'd take him down as easily as he used to take down crooks back home.

Adam cast his gaze around, hoping for an idea. He noticed a few flickers of flame among the debris scattered about, and even more smoldering spots, some of which were close to his targets.

"Perfect," Adam said softly, a wicked grin touching his lips as an idea popped into his head. His fingers twitched as he mouthed a single word. A tiny sliver of magically energy, so small that no-one paid it the slightest attention, flew across the intervening distance. The lackey it struck didn't even notice he'd been hit. Nor did he notice the tiny tongue of flame that sprang to life on the hem of his robe. But when a hot breeze started blowing up around his privates, he noticed that, and quickly lost all interest in Zatanna.

* * *

Green Arrow loosed another shaft, targeting an armored figure that was threatening Kim. The arrow was tipped with a hardened steel ball and slammed into the bad guy's back with a satisfyingly loud clang. Kim favored Arrow with a smile as he dashed over and retrieved his arrow. He could only carry forty at a time, so he didn't like to abandon them if he could help it. 

"Thanks," Kim said as she threw a second assailant.

"My pleasure," Arrow grinned. Then he turned serious. "Where's Fate?"

Kim pointed at the second sphere. "In there with Faust," she answered. Taking a quick look around she added, "Ron's keeping Monkey Fist busy, and you, me and Canary seem to be doing the same to the guards. I don't see DNAmy, though."

"And I don't see Bats or Supergirl," Arrow said, taking his own look around.

"If Supergirl is here, she's probably got her hands full," Kim speculated. "That would explain the shaking, anyway." Green Arrow nodded. The house had been shaking and trembling since he'd entered it, and the shocks were getting more intense.

"If I know Supergirl at all," Arrow said, "she's madder than a nest of hornets right now, and venting by playing wrecking crew."

Kim gave him a 'that sounds about right' grin, then jabbed a guard in the face with business end of her pike. The tip came out the back of his helmet. Kim pulled her weapon free and the guard slumped to the floor.

"You killed him!" Green Arrow said, gaping at Kim in disbelief.

"I wish," was all Kim said in reply. She pulled off the guard's helmet. The hole in his, its, face was already shrinking, and there was no blood. "Whatever these things are," Kim went on, "They can't be killed, at least not as far as I can tell, but the more damage you do them, the longer they stay down."

* * *

DNAmy ran as fast as she could. At their plans, everything she had worked so long and hard for, everything she had sacrificed to achieve, was in danger of coming to naught. Why couldn't that evil man, Ron Stoppable, have done what he was supposed to? He wasn't supposed to be patient or smart. He was a buffoon, a comic sidekick. He was supposed to take foolish risks and get up to his neck in trouble, not come storming to the hero's rescue with an army of super powered bullies at his back. It wasn't fair! She had to do something to help, but what? 

As she ran, DNAmy passed a familiar door and slid to a halt. Faust had showed her something once. A gong, a tiny thing of highly polished brass. It was pretty, but really didn't look like much. Faust had assured her though, that it was the key to the ultimate defense, should his home ever be invaded. A single ring of the gong was all that was needed to trigger that defense. Without another thought, she turned and ran into the room.

* * *

Inside the suit, Ron was sweating buckets. The suit was a thing of pure genius. A prototype, it was a completely sealed powered suit that boosted it's wearer's strength, augmented his hearing and vision, as well as providing a life support system that protected from environmental hazards like smoke or gas. So far so good, and pretty run of mill as far as such things went. The neat thing was that it was self sizing. The suit had been more than a little roomy when Ron had first put it on, and had said so. Batman had responded by manipulating some controls, and Ron had watched in awe and trepidation as the suit shrank itself down to his size. And the thing was covered with rigid plates of armor! But they had shrunk too. Before Ron could say a word Batman had read Ron's expression and anticipated his question. 

"Don't ask, because I won't tell," was all the Dark Knight said.

Ron slowly backed away from Monkey Fist, blocking blows, rolling with Fist's savage punches. The man was strong, unbelievably so, and faster than ever. He could also take damage like nobody's business. Ron had landed punches that would have put a normal man, any normal man, in the hospital with shattered ribs. Fist had shrugged them off like they were nothing.

No, that wasn't true. He was plastered in sweat too, and breathing just as hard as Ron was.

"Why can't you just die?" Monkey Fist gasped, glaring at Ron.

"Why can't you stay dead?" Ron retorted, as the two of them took a short breather.

"I must have revenge!" Monkey Fist raged, lunging forward again. Ron feinted with his right and tagged Fist with a left to the jaw that spun him around.

"Revenge, revenge, yadda yadda yadda," Ron mocked. "Is that all you villains ever think about?"

Monkey Fist unleashed a kick that caught Ron in the belly. If not for the armor Ron would certainly have had the wind knocked out of him, if not worse. As it was he went flying and landed in a heap, slightly stunned. Struggling up, Ron managed to regain his feet before Monkey Fist caught up to him.

"I must have the mystical monkey power!" the man-monkey howled, tackling Ron, sending the two of them tumbling in a tangle of flailing limbs.

"Dude, you HAVE the mystical monkey power," Ron pointed out, grappling with his foe.

"I must be the only one to possess it!" Fist clarified, clamping a hand around Ron's armored throat.

"Oh, I see how it is. Someone doesn't like to share," Ron jibed, locking his own hands to the side of Monkey Fist's head and pushing back.

"No I don't!" Fist shrieked, sounding for all the world like a spoiled kid. He let go of Ron's throat, grabbed the face plate of the helmet, and began pounding Ron's head against the floor. Ron reacted by triggering the stun feature of the suit's gauntlets. Electricity crackled and Monkey Fist cried out in pain. Ron twisted free and sprang to his feet.

For his part Monkey Fist was completely berserk now. Not a shred of coherence remained in his bloodshot eyes, only raw fury. Ron went into guard and waited. He didn't have to wait long. Monkey Fist surged forward, his every thought focused on attack, on destroying Ron Stoppable. He didn't give any thought at all to defense.

That was going to cost him.

* * *

DNAmy saw the gong flickering in the dim light, beckoning to her. She ran toward it, but just before she reached it a hideous shadow fell from the ceiling and reared up in front of her. 

"Boo," said a cold, monotone voice.

DNAmy fainted immediately.

* * *

Zatanna watched as the firestorm inside her shield faded out, revealing the victorious form of...Felix Faust. Zatanna's eyes widened in horror. Dr. Fate lay crumpled at the wizard's feet. Zatanna dropped the shield. She couldn't keep it up AND fight, so... At least Faust was weakened. He looked exhausted. Maybe Fate had taken enough out of the man that she would have a chance against him.

* * *

"Oh crap!" Kim turned at Green Arrow's words, following his gaze to the center of the room. Fate was down, Zatanna was preparing to do battle, Kara still hadn't shown up, and the rest of them were being worn down by a relentless force of almost unstoppable minions. Almost before she realized what she was doing, Kim broke free of the melee around Arrow and Canary and sprinted toward the wizard. Using a piece of debris as a vault, she launched herself into a flying kick. Kim heard Zatanna cry out something along the lines of 'Kim don't'. Faust turned his head and the last thing Kim saw was his eyes widening in surprise...

* * *

...just before the heel of her right boot slammed into his jaw and dropped him like a pole-axed cow. 

Zatanna stared in wonder. "You beat Felix Faust," the magician said in an awed voice. Then, going serious, she turned her attention to the unconscious wizard.

"Stniartser dna sdnob, gag, selkcahs," Zatanna commanded. Moments later Faust was bound hand and foot, with a gag over his mouth. Kim was impressed. Zee had even bound the wizard's fingers, to keep him from so much as wiggling them. A look around showed that Ron had Monkey Fist laid out and, with Green Arrow's help was tying him up. Faust's guards had stopped moving, standing or falling over as their position when the switch was turned off dictated. Batman entered the room half carrying, half dragging a blubbering DNAmy. Black Canary was herding Faust's living minions into a corner. Fate was getting to his feet, assisted by his young student.

* * *

Ron excused himself from Green Arrow and walked over to Kim, pulling off his helmet as he came. Kim smiled as Ron took her in his arms and hugged her gently. 

"I'm glad you're ok," he whispered in her ear. Kim returned the hug as best she could.

"Thanks for coming for me," she replied. Kim moved back slightly to look Ron in the face. He smiled down at her, and she smiled up at him. Before anything more could be said or done though, there was a final, violent shaking, followed by the thunderous rumble of a good part of one wall collapsing. Out of the billowing clouds of dust kicked up by the falling debris staggered Kara. She was sweaty, dusty, gasping for breath, and covered with scratches and bruises. Kara stared at the spectacle around her, then shook her fist at what was left of the room.

"Stupid house! You made me miss all the fun!"

Kim began to chuckle. Ron followed suit, and soon they were all laughing, in relief if nothing else.

Except Batman.

He only smiled.


	16. Afterward

Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by the Disney Corporation. Supergirl and all related characters and indicia are owned by DC Comics/Warner Bros. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.

_WWLAOS__: Saying what she wants to have happen, backwards, is how Zatanna casts her spells, both in the comics and on the Justice League cartoon. Don't ask to explain why it works :)_

_Sand Lord: A prototype of it, yes._

_Thanks to: eckles, star's dreams and Triaxx2._

Kim looked out the window in the living room of the small apartment she shared with Ron. The campus of the University of Northern California lay spread out beneath her, though it was obscured by falling snow. Not much had accumulated yet, but the weather people were talking several inches by nightfall. Kim snorted. She remembered her and Ron's search for a place to go to college. One of their many criteria had been 'mild climate'. The city of Redding's website had claimed such a climate: "Average high temps in winter thirty to forty degrees." Apparently this winter was going to be an exception to the rule, since it was currently just over twenty, and supposed to drop considerably during the night.

Kim turned away from the window. She, Ron and Kara had just returned from a day of skiing at nearby Mount Shasta. After their run in with Monkey Fist and Felix Faust the teens had decided they needed a nice, relaxing vacation, and the new ski resort on the volcanic mountain had been the destination of choice. Now that they were back home, Ron was in the apartment's small kitchen fixing supper. He was making an Italian dish whose name Kim couldn't remember, but which smelled wonderful. Kara was sitting on the sofa, leaned back against one armrest, a notebook in front of her and a textbook in her hands.

"You know," Kim commented, "You're one of the few people I know you would take homework on a vacation."

Kara grinned but didn't look up.

"You know how it is, Kim. If you let yourself get too far behind it's even more work to catch up. Don't worry though. I'm almost done."

Ron came out of the kitchen.

"What are you studying anyway?" he asked. Kara held the book up so Ron could read the title. "Advanced Calculus," he read aloud. "Sounds complicated."

Kara shrugged. "It's just math." Ron moved around and looked over her shoulder.

"Yipe!" he exclaimed. "That's not math!" he protested, pointing at an equation. "Two plus two is four is math. That's...that's...gibberish!"

"No, it's a vector-valued function," Kara proclaimed haughtily. "Perfectly comprehensible."

Ron shuddered theatrically, and the girls laughed.

"Take it easy on him, Kara," Kim advised. "Ron's mired in freshman prerequisite hell and he's not happy about it."

Ron nodded. "I'm majoring in Culinary Arts for Heaven's sake! Why do I need to take a course in rhetoric?" he demanded plaintively.

"They just want to be sure you're well rounded, Ron, that's all," Kim supplied.

Frowning and grumbling Ron plopped himself down on the couch. Kara closed her textbook and set it aside. Kim settled onto the opposite end.

"Getting off the subject of schoolwork," Kim said, "You were going to give us the lowdown on what happened to Faust, as I recall."

Ron perked up at that, and straightened up.

"Yeah," he pitched in. "I know Bates was sent back to England, and Monkey Fist and DNAmy were carted off to Belle Reeve Prison to await trial, but what did Dr. Fate do with Faust?"

Kara drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees.

"Well," she began, "I'm sure you realize that no ordinary prison could hold a man like Faust. He'd escape in a few seconds." Kim and Ron nodded.

"So Fate took him to an extraordinary prison?" Ron asked.

"Yep," Kara confirmed. "Most people don't know it, but the Justice Department has a special branch that deals exclusively with magical crimes, and there is a special court in Washington that tries those cases."

"And they took care of Faust?" Kim inquired. Kara shook her head.

"Turns out Faust was too powerful even for them, so arrangements were made to have him tried and punished, if found guilty, by the Lords of Order."

Kim and Ron stared at Kara blankly.

"And just who are the Lords of Order?" Kim asked curiously.

Kara's brow knitted as she considered how to answer. Finally she said, "The basic answer is that they are extremely powerful extra-dimensional beings that embody the concept of Order. Mainly they oppose their arch enemies, the Lords of Chaos, but they also dabble in the regulation of magic. Fate and his government counterpart discussed how to deal with Faust, went to that special court I mentioned, and got it to turn Faust over to the Lords of Order."

"What will they do to him if they decide he's guilty?" Kim asked, her voice slightly sick.

"Fate was pretty closed mouthed about that, but I got the distinct impression that whatever happens, we'll never see or hear from Faust again," Kara said grimly.

"Pretty harsh," Ron agreed. "but then, we'll probably never hear from Monkey Fist or DNAmy again, either."

Ron had a point, Kim knew. The state of Louisiana had announced its intention to try the two for capital murder. If convicted they would face a minimum sentence of life without the possibility of parole, and the state had already said it would seek the death penalty. California wanted the duo on assault and kidnapping charges. The Federal government had its own laundry list of charges as well, and the United Kingdom was making noises about bringing Monkey Fist back there to finish his outstanding prison sentence. No matter how things shook out, it looked like Monkey Fist was going away for a long, long time.

After dinner, while Kim and Kara did the dishes, Ron sprawled on the couch, leafing through Kara's textbook. He shook his head in disbelief again and again, and was heard to mutter the word 'unbelievable' a number of times.

When the girls were done cleaning up they joined Ron on the couch and put on a movie. It was 'The Princess Bride' one of Kim's favorites and, somewhat to Ron's surprise, Kara's as well. As they watched the days exertions, coupled with full stomachs and the cozy warmth, led to drooping eyelids and nodding heads. Kara was soon snuggled against Ron, her head resting on his right shoulder while she dozed.

After a while Ron glanced over at Kim. She was sitting a little apart from him, her eyes fixed on the TV. She seemed tense, and Ron understood. If Kara hadn't been here it would have been Kim snuggled up against him. Ron smiled to himself. That was easy to fix.

"Hey K.P.," he said softly. She looked at him just as his free hand reached out to snag one of hers. As their fingers intertwined a smile touched Kim's lips. Ron gave a slightly jerk of his head that said, 'Get over here,' and moments later Kim was pressing herself up against his side. No words were spoken. None were needed. Kim and Ron just looked into each others eyes, and knew what the other was thinking. As the wordless conversation drew to a close Ron's head moved forward. Kim's free hand touched his cheek as their lips met in a gentle, lingering kiss. Afterward they lingered, nose to nose, eyes sparkling with laughter and affection, then Ron was leaning back again and Kim's head was resting on his left shoulder.

As the movie drew to a close Ron's thoughts went back to high school and all the people who had seemed to go out of their way to make his life miserable. True, the taunts and bullying had dropped off sharply in the last two years, but there were those who either hadn't noticed the end of his social awkwardness, or who had seemed to resent its disappearance. Ron chuckled quietly. Once upon a time he hadn't been able to get a date to save his life. Now he had not one, but two incredible, beautiful girls whose idea of a perfect day was spending time with him.

As his head nodded forward Ron wondered, how could life possibly get any better?

* * *

Fifteen years later: 

Ron leaned on the wrought iron railing and looked out across the gleaming spires of Metropolis. Stars twinkling in the clear night sky were mirrored by the glinting lights of the city. He was standing on a balcony about halfway up the side of one of Metropolis' famous skyscrapers, the Powers Industries Building. Behind him, through a small side room, was a banquet hall full of expensively dressed people celebrating a landmark achievement in the life of someone very dear to him, but as happy as he was for her, his mind was on other matters this night.

Light footsteps and the barely audible swishing of delicate cloth warned him of someone coming up behind him. A familiar scent reached his nose, the scent of soap and perfume and female skin, all overlain with the barest hint of strawberries.

"Kim," he said softly as a familiar form joined him at the railing. She was as beautiful as ever, if not more so. Red hair, elaborately styled, cascaded down her back, contrasting nicely with her pale skin and the light blue of her evening gown.

"Ron," she replied with a warm smile. A hand lightly traced the lapels of his tuxedo. "You're looking dapper this evening."

"And you're as gorgeous as ever, K.P.," he rejoined. Her smile broadened.

"It's been a while," she commented.

"Too long," Ron agreed, slipping an arm around her waist. She moved in closer, and in moments they were embracing. The hug was followed by a prolonged kiss, and then Kim was resting her head against his chest, just like in the old days.

"I've missed you," Ron confessed. "You need to come by more often. The kids always look forward to a visit from their Aunt Kim."

Kim smiled again and turned toward the gathering of people. In the center of them all was Ron's wife, Kara Kent. Tonight was her night as her company, Kent Technologies, celebrated its wildly successful IPO. Surrounding her were family, friends, and business associates. Kim saw Kara's cousin, Clark, now Editor-in-Chief of the Daily Planet and his wife Lois Lane; Kara's Aunt Martha and Uncle Jonathan, now quite elderly, but still going strong; Kim's mother and father, who had quit their jobs in Middleton to move to Metropolis when Kim's dad went to work for Kara; and billionaire Bruce Wayne, who had bankrolled Kara's endeavors from early on, leaning heavily on his cane as he limped around the room. Other familiar faces included Kara's friend Barbara Gordon, paralyzed from the waist down and confined to a wheelchair, but absolutely brilliant with computers; along with Ron's parents; Wade; and Derek Powers, their billionaire host and the man who had purchased the second largest block of stock in Kent Technologies. The only people of importance absent were Ron and Kara's children, who were staying home. The kids weren't theirs in the biological sense: Kara had been having unprotected sex with human men for eighteen years and had never even been late for her period, let alone gotten pregnant. Instead, she and Ron had adopted. They had three beautiful children now, and were talking about adding a fourth.

Kim looked back up at Ron. "Don't worry," she said, "I think you'll be seeing more of me in the future." Ron's eyes followed hers to the ring on her finger, and he smiled.

"You finally took him up on his proposal, huh?"

"Well, he's not getting any younger, so when he asked again, I said yes," she explained.

"Good for you," Ron murmured approvingly, drawing Kim into another hug. She melted against him.

"We should do this more often," she said contentedly.

"My offer still stands," Kara's voice said from behind them. Ron and Kim turned their heads to see Kara standing a short distance away, smiling happily at them. "Both offers, in fact," she clarified.

Kim blushed. Kara had made it clear, before and after she and Ron were married, that if Kim and Ron wanted to make love they were welcome to, any time.

"I really don't mind sharing him, Kim, with you anyway," Kara had said. Kim and Ron had taken Kara up on her offer a number of times, encounters that Kim treasured.

"Maybe I will come by tonight after all," Kim said archly. Then she shot an apologetic look Kara's way. "I'll have to pass on the second offer, though."

Kara snapped her fingers in disappointment. "Rats!" she said jokingly. Ron chuckled. Kara's second offer was for Kim to join her and Ron in bed, but Kim hadn't ever quite been able to bring herself to the point of agreeing to it.

"Although..." Kim said, glancing back at Kara and the daring dress she was wearing.

Kara's eyes sparkled. "Don't tease me, Kim, I -" Kara stiffened suddenly.

"What is it?" Kim asked as Kara moved to the railing and stared out across the city.

"Trouble," Kara said. Turning to Ron she elaborated: "Shockwave is back in town."

"Great," Ron swore, "I guess those rumors were true after all." Reaching into a pocket he pulled out an electronic key ring and pushed a button. High above, a dark shape detached itself from the side of the building and plummeted down to their level, halting next to the balcony. The sleek black vehicle made Kim's eyes widen.

"That's the new Batmobile, eh?" she said.

"That's right," Ron confirmed, touching his wristwatch. His tuxedo morphed into a suit of shiny black armor, a red bat symbol on the chest. A wave of black swept up over Ron's face and formed itself into a helmet.

Kim glanced at Kara. She had already stripped off her glasses and put on her costume. Kara might be older, with the body proportions of a mature woman, but she was as sleek and muscular as ever, with a physique any super-model would envy. Her costume had changed quite a bit, though. Gone were the white, cropped tee-shirt and blue micro miniskirt. Now known as Superwoman, Kara wore a long sleeved blue leotard-type top and a somewhat longer red pleated skirt and a longer cape as well. She glided up off the balcony and hovered nearby while Ron jumped into the Batmobile. Both of them looked back at Kim.

"Aren't you coming?" Ron asked.

"Sure," Kim smiled. "I may as well get used to working with you guys again." The ring on her finger flashed, and her dress disappeared, replaced by a tight fitting bodysuit of black, white, and emerald green.

"I like it," Kara said approvingly.

Ron nodded as well, then gunned the engine of the Batmobile. Addressing Kim he said, "Stick close...Green Lantern," then hammered the throttle and tore off. Kim leapt after him.

"Right behind you, Batman."

This chapter brings to a close my most ambitious story yet, in terms of scale. In and of itself it is partly a nod to gargoylesama and his 'Path of Two to the Road of One' story, and partly a fulfillment of my long standing desire to do something with the fact that Ron Stoppable and Terry McGinnis are voiced by the same actor.


End file.
